951.042 Tl5"w

Keep Your Card in This Pocket

Books will be issued only on presentation of proper
library cards.

Unless labeled otherwise, books may be retained
for four weeks. Borrowers finding books marked, de-
faced or mutilated are expected to" report same at
library desk; otherwise the last borrower will be held
responsible for all imperfections discovered.

The card holder is responsible for all books drawn
on this card.

Penalty for over-due books 2c a day plus cost of

Lost cards and change of residence must be re-
ported promptly.

Public Library

Kansas City;, Mo.

Keep Your Card in This Pocket

* '"u *"\ ">

few

RSr'SJ

25 *. r-

2 1*

R3 ^

fS 19

,1 V

1960

50

WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

WHEAT '
AND SOLDIERS

By CORPORAL ASHIHEI HINO

TRANSLATED BY
BARONESS SHIDZUE ISHIMOTO

FARRAR & RINEHART, INC.
New York Toronto

COPYRIGHT, 1939, BY FARRAR & RINEHART, INC.
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
BY THE FERRIS PRINTING COMPANY, NEW YORK
M -x* ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

4 "38

CONTENTS

WHEAT AND SOLDIERS: An Impression by
W'illiam Henry Chamberlin vii

TRANSLATOR'S FOREWORD by Baroness Shidzue
Ishimoto ix

EARTH AND SOLDIERS 3

WHEAT AND SOLDIERS 151

Wheat and Soldiers; An Impression
by "William Henry Chamberlin

Wheat and Soldiers is, to the best of my knowl-
edge, the first deeply significant book to come out
of the Sino-Japanese conflict. The author, Corporal
Ashihei Hino, is a soldier in the ranks of the Jap-
anese army; but the first quality that lifts his work
far above the general run of "war books" is the
complete absence of any propagandist element.
Hino is neither prowar nor antiwar, neither pro-
Japanese nor anti-Japanese. What he endeavors to
do very successfully is to give the human side of the
Japanese drive for Suchow-fu, in which he partici-
pated, to show himself and his fellow-soldiers not
as legendary heroes but as credible men, their
moments of despair and weakness blending with
acts of great courage and devotion.

Wheat and Soldiers possesses some of the time-
less, epic character that made Remarque's All Quiet
on the Western Front, by general agreement, the
outstanding book on the World War, And it has
already achieved in Japan the phenomenal success
of All Quiet on the Western Front in Germany and
other countries. Nearly a half million copies have

vii

viii WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

been sold, although only a few months have passed
since the book was published. The reason for this
extraordinary popularity is obvious. Hino is telling
what war really is, with all the elements of pain and
terror that are systematically omitted from censored
newspaper correspondence and official military pub-
lications. The Japanese people who have brothers,
husbands, sons, friends at the front appreciate this
fact and have responded to the appeal of the book
in enormous numbers. Before the war Mr. Hino
was a well-known writer in Japan and the winner of
a literary prize.

TRANSLATOR S FOREWORD

Less than a year after the outbreak of fighting
between China and Japan, the Japanese public was
startled by the appearance of a small book entitled
Wheat and Soldiers. The cover identified the
author as "Corporal Ashihei Hino." He was an in-
fantryman, attached to a Japanese unit fighting in
Central China.

Wheat and Soldiers generated one of those
storms of enthusiasm, common to all nations. It
was the common soldier, the ordinary "mud slog-
ger," and his view. And it had, besides, another
unique quality. It was written, not in any cloistered
study, from the perspective of afterthought, but set
down from day to day, while the author was actually
on the field of battle. He literally turned from seeing
a scene to the description of it. Parts of Wheat and
Soldiers are from his diary. Other sections were
taken from his letters to his family.

The book became an overnight sensation in
Japan and then "Corporal Hino" was identified.
His true name was Katsunori Tamai, born as a
son of the president of a stevedore guild in Kyushu.
He was already well-known to a small and perhaps

x WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

exclusive section of the Japanese reading public.
They remembered him as a contributor to literary
magazines and the author of a collection of fan-
tasies called The Warship on the Mountain. The
volume had hardly appeared before he was called to
the front

By an odd coincidence, it was while he was in the
midst of his first campaign in China that word
came to him that Japanese critics had bestowed
upon him the Akutagawa Prize Japan's highest
literary honor for two of his earlier stories, "The
Poor People/' (Funnyo-dan) and "The Fish With
Poison/ 7 (Ftigu) . At that very moment, he was
writing the collection of letters and essays that were
to be compiled in book form under the titles Earth
and Soldiers and Wheat and Soldiers.

Chronologically, Earth and Soldiers came first.
But Wheat and Soldiers, written some months later,
was the first to be published. The former book de-
scribes his departure from Japan, the landing at
Hangchow Bay, and the drive on Kiashan. After-
ward, he was assigned to an intelligence unit in
Shanghai and then sent on to Suchow, in Central
China.

The Hangchow campaign came in the early
months of the fighting and, from a strategic stand-
point, was one of the most important moves the

TRANSLATOR'S FOREWORD xi

Japanese army made. For six weeks a terrible battle
had been raging near Shanghai. More than a mil-
lion men were involved. Japanese troops had been
battering against a steel and concrete line of de-
fenses, constructed long before by the foreign mili-
tary advisers to the Chinese Government. To all
intents and purposes, the struggle had fallen into
a deadlock not unlike the one that developed in
France during the World War. Then, without
warning, the Japanese suddenly landed at Hang-
chow Bay, 'behind the Chinese lines. Their ap-
pearance at that spot was a major contributing
factor in the almost incredibly quick collapse of
China's hitherto immovable lines around Shanghai.

"Corporal Hino" was one of those who landed
at Hangchow. These units moved, as rapidly as
mud and bullets would permit, overland toward the
main Chinese rear at Shanghai. He describes the
terrible and often heartbreaking marches.

The present volume is a complete translation of
Earth and Soldiers, detailing his experiences up
to the entry into Kiashan, plus a condensed version
of Wheat and Soldiers. The latter part deals with
his misadventure near Suchow.

I do not consider myself adequate to the task of
translating a work of literature. However, my devo-
tion to my country and my deep appreciation of the

xii WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

interest of my American friends led me to attempt
this task. Nor do I believe that the time has yet
come for us Japanese intellectuals to discuss China.
I can only say that Japanese wept openly when
they read Wheat and Soldiers and the subsequent
books by the same author. He voiced the cry of the
common soldier, and it was from our own homes
that these soldiers were sent. Human hearts re-
sponded to a human cry.

With this thought in mind, and with a prayer
for the new civilization that is coming to the Orient,
I send this translation to my friends in America.
Baroness Shidzue Ishimoto
Toiyo, Japan
February, 1939.

EARTH AND SOLDIERS

October 20, 1937

On Board the (Censored) Maru.

My dear Brother:

I am gazing idly at the immense, deep blue of
the sky above me and the water beneath. The colors
are the same as they were yesterday and the day
before yesterday, and two days before that. The
autumn air is clear and fine. But we are growing
tired of the sameness, the same view, the same
ship, the same blue sky and sea. Here it is, eleven
days since we bid good-by to all our people at the
pier. I remember well the indescribable emotion
that gripped me as we moved out from the harbor
and how I tried to hide it beneath a smile. And
now, in the weariness of this monotonous life, the
picture comes to me again, the print of dear faces
floating in a sea of flags.

When this fleet of transports, loaded with sol-
diers, ran down Shimonoseki Channel and entered
the Six Rows Islands, we could see the twinkling
lights of houses on both shores. It wrought a strange
sensation, compounded of sadness and nostalgia
and wondering about the future, a feeling that

3

4 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

everyone has read about in fiction, but few have
ever experienced.

Men Crowded together on the upper deck and
they watched many with eyes swimming in tears
the homeland receding smoothly, almost imper-
ceptibly in the distance. We stood there a long
time, waving our flags until our hands were almost
paralyzed. It was not for the people whom we could
no longer see, nor by whom we could be seen, but
perhaps to the fading mountains and rivers of home.
Nobody moved for a long time. Not a single man
went below. We just stood there, powerless to move
under the weight of feeling that welled up from the
bottom of our hearts. You are acquainted with the
sentiments expressed in the song, 'War Friend",
aren't you? It was something like that.

Well, we are on our way, across this autumn sea,
to an enemy country. But what is the matter? After
eleven days, we are still in Japanese waters, watch-
ing our homeland, day after day, from the upper
deck. From here, I can see some islands, surrounded
by the deep-blue water, crowned with brown, rolling
hills. There are the dark-green pine forests and the
winding coast lines that look like white silk sashes.
The gently breaking waves are within our reach.
This is no enemy shore, but our own. We are all
anxious for a first glimpse of the Chinese mainland.

EARTH AND SOLDIERS 5

So, regardless of our impatience, we have not yet
lost sight of Japan. Several days ago, we were mov-
ing slowly down the picturesque coast, through the
Sea of Genkai. Finally, we anchored off an un-
known port, unmistakably Japanese. It seemed to
me like a bad joke. You picture us as brave men,
fighting our way through a hail of bullets at the
front. But here we are, still aboard ship, idling away
the days in dullness, rotting.

On the (censored) Maru, there are about (cen-
sored) men and two hundred horses. It is like a
floating barracks. We spend the time leisurely, com-
paring the length of our beards, washing clothes,
drinking wine, writing letters, singing (or rather,
roaring) folk songs, arm wrestling, playing chess or
cards, chattering endlessly, doing nothing, yawning.

The channel is choked with other transports,
floating barracks, like ours, and cargo boats. We
can see the men plainly. Like ourselves, they are
doing nothing. In the distance, a gray, menacing
line of battleships is convoying this transport fleet.

Our sleeping quarters are very narrow and the
ceiling is extremely low. Obviously, they were built
hurriedly, with cheap materials in the middle deck.
It has been divided to make two tiers of bunks on
either side. The whole space is barely enough to
let a man stand erect, so you can imagine the

6 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

amount of room in the bunks. It takes a lot of
maneuvering to get in and out. When I first saw
these bunks and was told that we were to occupy
them, I could hardly believe it. It seemed impos-
sible for all these men to crowd together into such
a dark, narrow place. At first, I kept forgetting how
cramped it was and continually knocked my head
against the ceiling. Now we are all used to it. Any-
thing is possible, I realized.

We laid our bags in a row, making a border line
between each division of men. When all the men
were in here, row upon row of sleeping soldiers, I
thought of a can of sardines. No sooner had we be-
come accustomed to being so crowded than an-
other discomfort appeared. We began to suffer from
the stuffy, fetid air. I felt my body growing damp
with sweat and, before long, I was fairly swimming
in my bunk.

However, we joked about it, or bore it in silence,
thinking it need only be endured for a few days.
But the time stretches out interminably. How many
more days in this dark, evil-smelling cavern? We
don't know. What is more we don't even know
where we are going!

Naturally, we have all been wondering about our
destination. Some say that we are going to Dairen,
to reinforce the army of occupation in Manchukuo.

EARTH AND SOLDIERS 7

Others are completely convinced that we are on the
way to Shanghai. But then one group says that
there are already enough men on the Shanghai
front and that we will soon find ourselves on the
border of Siberia. Still others claim to know that
we are going to attack Canton, in South China.
So it goes. It is all just guesswork.

Of course, the reason for all this speculation is
obvious. We are not on a pleasure trip. Where we
land may be a matter of life or death to most of
us, perhaps all. This anxiety is a strong undercur-
rent, running beneath our careless chatter. There
is no use reminding each other that we have given
our lives to our country and that whether we live
or die when we land is of no consequence, now.
No one can throw away his life so easily. We are
not almighty. None of us is a giant. There is no
such thing as training a man to think, without fear,
about the last moment of his life. Every day, the
same subject creeps into our talk and we know, as
never before, that the answer is closed to us in a
box of mystery.

Some of the fellows talk with great confidence
about the things they believe. But the viewpoint of
one man does not satisfy the doubt of another. It
serves only to increase anxiety. The question is
always left dangling in the air.

8 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

As you know, we were all conscripted in Sep-
tember. Then we were immediately organized into
a unit. What surprised me, from the first, was the
fact that none of us is young. We are all middle-
aged, a fatherly-looking group. Most of us are hus-
bands and fathers, some have several children.

Nor is our commanding officer a young man. He
is past fifty, with graying hair. The story is that he
was a hero in the war with Russia, at the time of
the Siberian expedition.

In youth, death seems forever faraway, the small-
est cloud on the horizon. Even a soldier, when he
is very young, is never really aware of the immi-
nence of death. It may come to the others, but not
to him. But in middle age, as most of us are, it is a
different thing. So we wonder about our destination.

We are living now under strict army law. In
order not to breach a military secret, we are for-
bidden to communicate with anyone outside the
ship. Nobody knows about us. We are not allowed
to mail letters. So most of us are setting down our
thoughts in diaries. Others are writing long letters
to their people at home, without any idea when
they may be able to mail them, or whether they
will ever be delivered. So it is with this letter of
mine to you. I am writing it in the vague hope that
we may be permitted to mail tomorrow. But to-

EARTH AND SOLDIERS 9

morrow may find us landing somewhere in the face
of the enemy, to be instantly shot down. Thus,
writing these letters and placing our thoughts in
diaries is like writing a will.

Nevertheless, I am going to continue my letters
to you as long as possible. It is impossible, as we
approach war for the first time, to focus any thought
on what it will be like. Time and again, I have
tried to picture it mentally, bringing all my knowl-
edge and information to the aid of my imagination.
But it never appears clearly in my mind.

Something seems to be happening, below decks.
I hear shouting and applause. It is probably one of
the usual amateur entertainments. The men, for the
most part, have been serene and jolly, but they like
these impromptu shows. Some of them are good
actors. I should say some are more than amateurs.

Naniwabushi 1 is very popular among us. Almost
everybody has tried one or two passages. Again I
hear them applauding, clapping their hands and
shouting. Perhaps someone has begun the favorite,
"The Bloody Handkerchief of Kioi Hill", the equiv-
alent, in old Naniwabushi, of a detective story.

Sublieutenant Yamazaki, our section commander
and a champion fencer, is one of the most popular
Naniwabushi entertainers. His favorite is the story

1 Some well-known story, half recited, naif sung Translator.

10 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

of "Kenya, the Harlot." One evening, when he had
been drinking and was in particularly good humor,
he performed it. He roared, ". . . and the harlot
Konya said to her customer, *I love you/ " He in-
toned the words slowly and solemnly, word by
word, in and out of tune, creating such a hilarious
effect that we went into paroxysms of laughter.
Even the sober Captain Shimizu, sitting to one side
of the platform and pouring his wine from his can-
teen, smiled gently as he listened.

One of the things that happens in this amiable
atmosphere is that the gulf between an officer and
a soldier, which would be strongly in evidence in
the barracks, almost entirely vanishes here. When
an officer performs well, all the men cheer and ap-
plaud. But if he is not so good, the men never
hesitate to laugh and jeer in an entirely natural
manner. High and low now tend to meet on a
common plane, because we are united under one
divine authority.

I often think, seriously, about the military sys-
tem. I have been made commander of the 2nd
Squad. There are thirteen men under nie. What
does this mean? Yesterday, these people had noth-
ing to do with me. We were all strangers. The only
common relationship between us was our Japanese
citizenship. Then we were mobilized. These people

EARTH AND SOLDIERS 11

became members of the 2nd Squad, wliich was a
unit in one of the army sections. They were merely
members, whereas I am the chief.

Mere chance determined the formation of a
squad. The division leaders arbitrarily put fourteen
names into one squad, fourteen more into another,
and so on. The names were published and the list
was distributed to us. Then we lined up, respond-
ing to roll call, and there we were united under an
absolute tie. A new relationship emerged at this
moment.

This is, to ine ? extraordinary. It is difficult to
grasp. Thirteen men, thirteen separate individuals,
each having his decent living, his profession in his
home town, are called to the army. They become
soldiers, organized into a 2nd Squad, placed under
my command; I, who am nothing more than a
simple man with the rank of infantry corporal.

Now, I am the leader of these men. I command
them. Some are of much finer personality than I.
But no matter; henceforth, they all must obey my
order. They are at my disposal. Even more than
that; if I give the command, they will hurl them-
selves into death, itself. Merely because I tell them
to do so. What a completely incredible thought
it is!

Think of us in normal living. Very few of us,

12 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

perhaps none, is tlie master even of himself. How
strange, then, to realize that one has become the
master of thirteen others, with absolute control over
their lives, with the power to send them to death?
When I was informed that I had become the chief
of thirteen men, with the authority to throw them
into fire or water, I trembled under the thought.
It was like a great weight pressing at the back of
my brain. I tell you, my dear brother, that in that
moment, a totally new and bewildering picture of
life came crashing into my consciousness. It is a
side of life of which I have never dreamed. And I
am utterly unprepared for it.

We squad commanders are under the authority
of the section commanders, the section comman-
ders are related in the same way to the company
leaders, the company leaders to the battalion chiefs
thus it pyramids, higher and higher. This idea of
the human relationship in a great army organiza-
tion is so unique that it overpowers all my thoughts.
All I can do is to grip tightly the reality of it.

At the same time, I am struck with the simplicity
of the whole thing. While I am surprised and
pondering it so seriously, it is so simple that every-
one else has taken it for granted.

(The list of thirteen names was appended.)

EARTH AND SOLDIERS 13

These are the names of my men. Everyone of
them is very vigorous in appearance. They are good
fellows. And here is another strange thing: I am
beginning to be excited at the thought of going into
battle with my men.

The bell rings, announcing the evening meal.

We can hear it ringing on each of the transports;

the sound comes across the water. We have meal

tickets, which we give to a collector at each meal.

^pLarge crews in the galley prepare the food and also

<hgive us hot tea. The task of cooking for this great

4\ group of men must be tremendous.

The sun hangs for a moment on the top of a

high mountain crowning the island on our right.

y Then it begins to sink. To us, this is the worst time

of day. At sunset, all the devils of homesickness and

' worry begin to beset us. Pretty soon, we will be on

^the battlefield, watching it go down, letting our
imaginations carry us across the sea to homes and
fields in Japan, where people are also watching the
9f red sky. They are missing their men, the departed
fathers, husbands, and brothers, pursuing the images
^ of loved ones into some lonely and unknown field.
(ft At the end of the day, this feeling seems to be in-
^evitable. It is pathetic to see big men become
strangely quiet at the approach of night. I think

14 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

to myself, 'It's silly to entertain such emotions
while we are still on the ship, floating in a Japanese
bay. We haven't come far yet, I should say."

It has been a lazy day and I am not hungry. But,
as always, we sent a scout down to the galley to
discover what they will give us to eat. He has re-
ported that baked tai-fish is on the menu. Splendid!
I shall go down and enjoy that with the sake. Yes,
for no reason that I can explain, I have begun to
drink. Now I am going to end this letter. I will
write soon again.

October 28, 1937

Aboard the (Censored) Maru.

Dear Brother:

Again today, there is the blue sky and the blue
water. And here I am writing this while lying in
the same position on the upper deck of the same
boat. I wish this were being written at the front,
but not yet. All I can tell you is about the soldiers,
lolling about the boat, the pine groves and the wind-
ing, peaceful line of the Japanese coast. What will
be our fate? Nobody knows. The speculation about
our point of disembarkation is still going on.

EARTH AND SOLDIERS 15

Rumors that we are bound for Manchukuo are
gaining strength.

They have a reliable source. Somebody who
should know said that a party left before us, des-
tined for Mukden, with orders to build barracks.
It sounds reasonable.

Besides, there is a well-founded report that on
the Shanghai front, where there has been a stale-
mate, our troops attacked and fought a ferocious
battle. The story is that two days ago they ad-
vanced in force and rolled back the line for several
miles, taking two important Chinese cities. They
say that big lantern parades are swirling through
the streets of Tokyo, in celebration. So the war is
over! And we are to be returned, like victorious
troops. That would be funny, in our case, but any-
way, we are to be sent home soon!

Of course, it is nonsense, some absolutely ridicu-
lous story. Yet we cannot avoid listening when
someone talks in this vein. We cannot believe it
and yet we do not wish to convince ourselves that
it is not true. The future is still a blank.

One new thing has developed, lately. We have
been practicing a landing drill. There are scores of
small launches aboard this ship, and we have been
practicing the method of launching them and row-

16 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

ing them toward shore. But, even for this fact, our
optimists have an answer.

They claim it is only to give us exercise. How-
ever, most of us believe it is real preparation for the
day when we will disembark in the face of a real en-
emy. Indeed, we do need exercise. We have slept
and eaten and lounged about for three weeks, day
after day, and some of the men are beginning to
show the effects. They have gained weight and they
act sluggish. Once in a while, Yamashita, a sergeant,
conducts some gymnasium work on the upper deck,
but that is not enough. Personally, I believe that
those who consider the boat drill merely for exer-
cise and those who think it is a genuine battle
maneuver, are both right.

This sort of life, while it is bad for the men be-
cause it is too easy, is even worse for the war horses,
down in the hatch. They have been stabled below
decks, in a dark and unhealthy hole. Sometimes,
you can see them, clear down in the hold, standing
patiently in the darkness. Some have not survived
so well. They have lost weight. Their ribs are show-
ing and they look sickly.

They have the best in food and water. Actually,
they get better care than the men. Does it surprise
you to know that, in war, a horse may be much
more valuable than a man? For example, the horses

EARTH AND SOLDIERS 17

get all the water they need. On the other hand, the
supply of water for the men Is limited, barely
enough for washing, let alone the daily bath to
which we are accustomed.

From that standpoint, the horses are much better
off than we are. But the poor creatures have no op-
portunity for exercising, breathing fresh air and
feeling the sunlight. They are growing weaker.
With my own eyes, I have seen a number of them
collapse from illness.

The veterinarians tried desperately to cure them,
but none of those that fell ever arose again. The men
worked over these dying animals as though they
were children. Sometimes, long after a horse was
dead, his handler, like a heartbroken parent, stayed
at his side, petting him, murmuring soft words,
watching with tear-blinded eyes. Many times, I
have seen a man stand erect and salute before leav-
ing the side of a dead horse.

When a horse dies, a steam winch lifts his body
from the hold, hoists it over the side and into a
small waiting boat. Then the body is carried to
shore. So many of them have died.

I never look at a war horse, without thinking of
poor Uhei Yoshida, who lives on the hillside, back
of our town. In my memory, they are always to-
gether, just as they were before the war ever

18 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

came. It is impossible to disassociate one from the
other.

Perhaps you do not remember Uhei. He was a
carter. He had a wagon, with which he did hauling
jobs. His horse, Kichizo, drew it.

In all my life, I have never known such affection
between man and animal. Kichizo was a big, fine
chestnut, with great, wide shoulders and chest, and
a coat like velvet. It used to shimmer in the sun
and you could see the muscles rippling underneath
the skin. Uhei cared for Kichizo like a mother with
a baby.

I suppose this can be explained, at least in part,
by the fact that Uhei had no children. He was
already past forty, but his wife had never conceived.
Undoubtedly, Uhei long ago gave up hope of hav-
ing a child. So all his affection turned toward
Kichizo, the horse. You have heard fathers brag
about their sons? In a way, he did the same thing
about Kichizo. "What strength!" he would say,
"and yet how gentle he can be. He's a dear fellow,
that Kichizo, even though he is so big and strong/'

Then the war came. It came clear down to our
little town, into the nooks and corners of the
country, taking men and horses. Kichizo was com-
mandeered by the army.

EARTH AND SOLDIERS 19

When he heard the news, Uhei was speechless
with surprise for a while. I remember it very well.
"The army needs your horse, Uhei/' someone told
him. "It is for the nation." Uhei looked at the
speaker with dumb disbelief in his face. His eyes
were frozen, uncomprehending. "Don't worry/'
they told him, "Kichizo will be all right. He isn't
a cavalry horse. He won't be in any danger. They'll
use him behind the lines, to pull wagons. It won't
be anything different than what he does here. And
the army takes good care of its horses. They're very
important. Don't you worry about him."

Uhei turned away without speaking and began to
run toward his home. He broke into a dead run,
like a crazy man, and we saw him disappear behind
the bend in the road. "He'll be all right," some-
body said, "after all, it's only a horse."

That same afternoon, Uhei came back to town.
He looked different then. He was smiling and his
eyes were shining, and he swaggered around the
streets. "Have you heard the news?" he kept say-
ing, "Kichizo, my horse, is going to the war. They
need big strong fellows for the army, so of course
Kichizo was the first horse they thought about.
They know what they're doing, those fellows.
They know a real horse when they see one."

20 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

He went to the flagmaker and ordered a long
banner, exactly like the ones people have when a
soldier is called to the war. 2

"Congratulations to Kichizo on his entry into the
army," this banner said, in large, vivid characters.
Uhei posted a long pole in front of his house, high
on the hillside, and attached this banner. It
streamed out in the wind, where everyone could
see. Uhei was bursting with pride. As soon as the
banner was up, he took Kichizo out from the field
and pointed up to where it floated gracefully above
the house. "You see that, Kichizo/ 7 he said. "That's
for you. You're a hero. You've brought honor to
this village."

Meanwhile, Uhei's wife, O-Shin, was carrying
this human symbolism even further. She bought
a huge piece of cloth and began preparing a
"thousand-stitches belt" for the horse. 3

This cloth that O-Shin bought was big enough
to cover four or five men. When she stood in the
street, asking passers-by to sew a stitch, they all
laughed, but they did it. She had a needle that she

2 Organizations and schools and villages as well as individual
friends do that. The name of the man whom they are congratulating
is written on the banner, so that everyone will know and feel proud
of the man and place he comes from Translator.

3 The Sennenbari, or "thousand-stitches belt/' is a talisman, with
red threads sewn by well-wishers for a Japanese soldier when he leaves
for the front. It is supposed to protect him from wounds.

EARTH AND SOLDIERS 21

borrowed from a matmaker to do such a big piece
of work. When the stitches were all in, she, herself,
worked all through one night, finishing the belt. It
was very difficult, with such a big needle, but she
finished it.

They put the good-luck belt around Kichizo's
middle, just as though he were soldier. At the same
time, Uhei visited a number of different shrines
in the neighborhood and bought lucky articles.
O-Shin sewed them into the belt.

And finally, he gave a farewell party and invited
all the neighbors. Uhei was not a rich man and he
couldn't afford it. If he had any savings, they were
all spent that night. I was among those he invited.
I took, as a gift, a bottle of wine.

Most of the guests were already there, in Uhef s
neat little house, by the time I arrived. They were
in good humor, laughing and drinking. Uhei was
excited and bustling around, seeing to everything.
His eyes were glistening. "Yes, it's rare to find such
a wonderful horse/' he said. "You seldom find a
horse with so much spirit and intelligence and at
the same time so strong and vigorous. Oh, he'll
show them! I'm so happy. Have a drink! Have
many cups of wine for this happy occasion!"

There were tears rolling down his cheeks as he
spoke and the bitter salt mingled with the wine he

22 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

was drinking. Everyone was making a noise, laugh-
ing and talking and roaring jokes. O-Shin kept
hustling in and out of the kitchen, bringing hot
food and warming the bottles of wine. She was a
plain little thing, drab, I used to think. But that
night, smiling and exuberant, she seemed trans-
formed and almost beautiful.

When the party was at its height, Uhei suddenly
jumped up from the table and ran outside. We
heard the heavy clomp-clomp of a horse, walking
through the front yard. And then, through an open
window, Kichizo's long graceful neck came in. His
head stretched all the way to the banquet table.
He looked at us gravely; I again had the feeling
that he knew all about this occasion, and knew it
was for him, and what it meant.

Uhei ran into the room again and threw his arms
around the horse's neck, and gave him boiled lob-
sters and some octopus, and poured the ceremonial
wine into his mouth, "To Kichizo," he cried.
"Dear, brave Kichizo!" We all stood and drank and
roared "Banzai!" three times. It must have seemed
a little silly and sentimental. Yet, Uhei had inocu-
lated us all with something of the love he had for
that horse and it seemed natural enough to us.

In the late afternoon of the next day, I saw Uhei
at Hospital Hill, returning from the army station.

EARTH AND SOLDIERS 23

He had delivered Kichizo to them. I spoke to him,
but he seemed not to recognize me, nor to have
heard my voice, for he walked on a few paces. Then
he turned and acknowledged the greeting in a dis-
tant, absent-minded sort of way. He looked haggard
and sickly, as though he had lost his strength, and
he left me hurriedly. All he said was "Kichizo has
gone/'

Later, someone told me how he brought the
horse to the station. It was a terribly warm day. So
Uhei took his own grass hat, cut two holes in the
side for Kiehizo's ears, and put it on the horse's
head. Poor Kichizo, that heavy "thousand-stitches
belt" must have been very warm and uncomfortable
in such weather. Besides, Uhei had decorated him
with national flags, so that he looked like some
sacred animal, on the way to dedication at a shrine.
I suppose he felt just that way about him.

O-Shin accompanied them, holding the reins, as
they walked to the station. It was a curious and sad
little trio, the man and woman with that great sleek
horse in its strange attire, walking slowly down the
hillside, through the village and up the other side.
Everyone watched, silently. No one laughed.

At the army station, a good many other horses
were already gathered together in the yard. They
had already been examined by the army veteri-

24 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

narians before being accepted. Now they were
merely waiting to be taken away on the train. No
one knew just when it would come.

O-Shin left immediately, but Uhei stayed and
stayed beside Kichizo, patting its hip and running
his fingers through its mane. At first, the soldiers
laughed, just as the people in the village had done.
But they soon saw how Uhei felt about his horse
and then they told him, kindly, "Don't cry, Uncle.
It's a great promotion for your horse, isn't it? He
is going to serve the nation now, instead of pulling
a cart around this village. That's something, isn't
it? Well, then, cheer up. Besides, he'll get better
care in the army than you could ever give him.
Don't you worry. He's going to be all right." So
they tried to console Uhei. Nevertheless, he stayed
until dark.

Early the next day, he was back at the army sta-
tion, fussing over Kichizo. Of course,' there was
nothing to be done. The army grooms had already
cared for and fed and watered the horses, but the
poor man wanted to see for himself. He clucked
around Kichizo like a hen with its chicks. Not that
day, nor for several days afterward, did the train
come to take the horses away.

It was quite a distance from Uhei's house to the
army station, but he came every day, faithfully. He

EARTH AND SOLDIERS 25

came early and stayed until dusk. Someone de-
scribed Uhei to me, saying, "Uhei-san is like a
plant getting water in the hot summer sun every
time he sees his horse/'

At last the fatal day came. All the horses were
loaded on the train, and taken to the near-by (cen-
sored) harbor, where they went aboard the trans-
ports. Uhei went along. He went as far as they
would let him and then the grooms again told him
not to worry, and promised they would take good
care of Kichizo. He bowed, eyes brimming with
tears. He bowed and bowed, and could only mum-
ble, "Thanks, thanks, very much."

As the boat moved out of the harbor, he ran up
to a bridge overlooking the water. It was high above
the water and he stayed there until the very smoke
from the steamer had vanished beneath the horizon.
He waved his flag and shouted, "Kichizo/' until he
was hardly able to speak. And he kept his eyes
riveted on the spot where the ship had disappeared.

This is all I know about the story. When I was
called to the front, he was the first to come and
wish me luck and help me with my preparations.
On the day I left, he came again to the harbor and
begged me to look out for Kichizo. "You know
him," he said, eagerly. "You couldn't miss him
among a thousand horses. Anyway, he has a small

26 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

white spot on his left side and, on the opposite hip,
the character 'Kichf is branded. Oh, you couldn't
miss him."

"If I see him, 111 be sure and write to you," I said.

"Remember, he's a beautiful reddish chestnut,"
Uhei continued. "Yes, tell me if you see him. And
please say something to him about me. That would
seem strange to you, wouldn't it, talking to a horse?
All right, but just pat him on the nose, once or
twice."

It seems cold and unkind of me, but only once
have I asked about Kichizo since I came aboard
this boat. The groom said he had not seen any such
horse. Nor have I, although I have not tried to ex-
amine all the horses. But when I see one of them
fall sick and die, and then go over the side to the
small boat, I cannot help but recall poor Uhei. For
his sake, I hope nothing like this has happened to
Kichizo.

Well, I did not mean to discuss a horse in such
terms, as though he were a human being. Yet, there
is something close and warm in the love of a man
for an animal. Isn't it true?

Speaking of the "thousand-stitches belt" reminds
me of a recent episode that may give you a clear
insight into our minds and hearts, these days,

As you know, there is not a man aboard ship

EARTH AND SOLDIERS 27

without one of these belts. They encircle every
waist and each stitch carries a prayer for safety.
Mine is of white silk and has a number of charms
sewed into it. I do not understand the symbolism
connected with each. Some are Buddhist and the
others Shinto. It makes no difference, of course.
All are supposed to afford protection from wounds.

Our dear mother gave me an embroidered charm
bag, which contains a talisman of the "Eight
Myriads of Deities/' and a "Buddha from Three
Thousand Worlds". In addition to these, I have an
image of the Buddha, three inches in height, of
exquisite workmanship. This was a present from
Watabe, who lives on the hillside. When he gave
it to me, he said it had been through three wars.
"No bullet ever touched the man who wore it,"
he said. "It is a wonderful charm/' Three different
soldiers carried it in the Boxer Rebellion, the first
Sino-Japanese War, and the Russo-Japanese War.
According to his story, they came through without
a scratch.

The most imposing of all the gifts to me when I
was called is a bullet-proof vest from Junichiro
Nomura, one of my friends. It is made of nine strips
of dried cuttlefish linked together like mail armor.
The various sections were all taken from a female
fish, which is supposed to enhance its virtue. And

28 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

a certain rule that I do not fully understand, re-
garding the number and disposition of the suckers,
has been followed. It is held together by a special
string, which was first blessed at one of the shrines.
Finally, the whole vest was purified and blessed,
before he gave it to me.

Well, it looks to me like nine pieces of dried fish
and nothing more. I cannot see how it could stop
a bullet, but he was so much in earnest about its
powers that I took it and even wore it beneath my
uniform before I left home.

If I put on all the charms that were given me, I
would look like a beer barrel and it would be almost
impossible to walk.

All the men on this ship are similarly loaded with
tokens and amulets and belts and mementoes from
their families and friends. One man has a very com-
plicated charm, a bag hung with five-sen and ten-
sen pieces. He explained it to me. It seems the
idea is that five-sen comes next to four-senpro-
nounced in Japanese "shi-sen", which means "the
boundary line of Death". Likewise, ten-sen comes
after nine-senpronounced "ku-sen", meaning "des-
perate battle". The significance is that the wearer
will come through a desperate battle, near the
boundary line of death, and into the realm of safety.

On warm days, when we take off our shirts, these

EARTH AND SOLDIERS 29

articles are seen everywhere. I do not mean to scorn
them, but it would be interesting to study them all,
with the superstitions they embody. However, one
cannot disregard the heartfelt sentiment connected
with them.

There was one man who did scoff at them; and
in no uncertain terms, either. He no longer does so.
This man, Corporal Tachibana, is quite a character.
He says he is an atheist. He likes to talk about his
ideas and he deliberately provokes arguments, in
which he stoutly defends the materialistic point of
view. In these, he employs big, pedantic words that
so puzzle the men that they cannot reply. Person-
ally, I doubt that he himself understands the mean-
ings of all the words he uses.

Particularly when he has had a little wine, Cor-
poral Tachibana used to like to ridicule the men
about their charms and talismen. "Absurd/' he
would say. "Absolutely ridiculous! If we could
really protect ourselves with such things, there
never would be anyone killed in war. The Chinese
would use them, too, and so would every other kind
of soldier. Then what kind of a war could you have,
if nobody was killed? It is nonsense, and it is not
befitting for a member of the imperial army to do
such things."

Of course, this was perfectly true and the men

30 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

knew it. But still they believed in their pitiful little
articles, the luck charms. To me, it seemed cruel
and heartless of him. If he himself preferred not
to place any stock in these ideas, very well. But why
should he shake the faith of simple men who did?
Strangely enough, however, he himself had a
"thousand-stitches belt/ 7 around his middle.

One day recently, when it was very hot, we were
all on the upper deck, lying in the shade. Suddenly,
without a word, Corporal Tachibana jumped over
the side and landed with a magnificent splash. He
is not a good swimmer and, when the foam and
spray disappeared, we saw him sink. Then he re-
appeared, churning the water with his arms and
legs. Immediately, two of the men stripped and
dove in after him. At the cry, "Man overboard," a
boat was lowered.

They pulled him into the boat and finally brought
him up on deck again. His raddled, dripping hair
was hanging over his face and his hairy stomach
was throbbing like a globeEsh. In his right hand
was his "thousand-stitches belt"!

As soon as he caught his breath, he laughed
shortly and said, "This easy life has made me care-
less." He explained that when he pulled off his
shirt, his safety belt came with it and the wind blew

EARTH AND SOLDIERS 31

it Into the sea. When he saw it fluttering into the
water, he jumped after it.

"Not because I was afraid of being shot, if I lost
it," he said, grinning. "I don't believe it can protect
me in war. But my folks were so sincere about it
that I couldn't just lose it in the ocean, this way.
So I had to get it"

He must have thought we did not believe him,
for he added, "The prayers of my people, reflecting
on my brain, made me do it." Men who had been
listening to him, with sly smiles on their faces, sud-
denly grew serious. The joking stopped. Inadver-
tently, it seemed to me, he had denied his own
arguments and revealed a belief little different from
that of the other men. Unconsciously, I put my
hand on my own belt.

We had two landing drills today and actually
went ashore. For a few moments, I felt strange and
slightly ill as we stood on land after having been on
the gently moving ship for so long. Still we were
happy. The beach, even through my thick army
shoes, seemed tender and sweet. We landed near
a village, or rather a cluster of ten shabby huts be-
longing to fishermen.

I must tell you about the outfit that we carry in
these drills. Out of curiosity, one of the men

32 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

weighed himself in full landing equipment. The
scale showed that we are carrying slightly more than
seventy-two pounds on our backs. This does not in-
clude ammunition. We have received no bullets yet.
The outfit is composed of a military kit, a blanket,
a water bottle, a gas mask, and so on. We all laughed
when we saw each other rigged in this way. We
looked like beggars, carrying our households with
us. It is almost impossible to walk properly under
such a load.

In this drill, we also carried arms and canisters for
bullets. Some of the men had their rifles and some
special squads brought machine guns. The small
boats, about which I have spoken, bore us toward
shore. We were instructed to jump into the water
and wade as soon as the craft touched bottom. It is
not as easy as it sounds, particularly burdened as we
are and considering the pitching and rolling of the
launches. A good many of the men flopped into the
water when they jumped.

Immediately on reaching the beach, we are sup-
posed to lie flat on our stomachs, hugging the earth
and making ourselves as small as possible. My first
thought was that it was very pleasant to stretch out
like that in the cold damp sand. But when I began
considering the significance of this maneuver, I got
a cold chill; and not from the water, either.

EARTH AND SOLDIERS 33

I am not well-acquainted with the history of war,
but I am told that these landings are terribly costly.
The beach is flat and open, without the least protec-
tion. Assuming that the enemy is within rifle shot,
every man is an exposed target, long before he
emerges from the water. And, while he is wading,
waist-deep, through the surf, the enemy has ample
time to aim and fire at him. I do know that we had
countless casualties in the landing at Shanghai.

Our transport is making its fifth trip to China.
One day, I was talking about this landing problem
with a member of the crew who had seen the previ-
ous attack. "It was simply unbelievable/' he said,
referring to the time our men went ashore under
enemy guns at Woosung, in the mouth of the river.
He said no more and I did not feel like questioning
him. I have my own ideas about the meaning of
that word, "unbelievable".

No matter how dangerous the task may be, we
must go through with it. And we should have no
fear. But it is not easy to imagine such an action
without a little uneasy anticipation.

However that may be, we went ashore today and
although it was a relief, at first, to be back on dry
land, my mood soon changed to one of great disap-
pointment, almost despair. We carried out a small
maneuver, marching only nine miles, yet I discov-

34 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

ered that I have become very weak I suppose the
soft life aboard ship has caused it. Several times I
felt so tired and dizzy that I thought I would have
to suffer the great disgrace of dropping out of line,
but I managed to endure it. I puffed and panted,
quietly emptied my canteen of the last drop of wa-
ter, and acquired such an array of blisters on my
feet that I could not move for three days afterward.
So much for today, I will write again soon.

November 2, 1937
Aboard Ship.

Dear Brother:

The transport is finally moving, ploughing
through black ocean toward some unknown spot.
Nothing has yet been told us about our destination.
After the evening meal tonight, I went up to the
deck and stood, engulfed in a sea of darkness. The
murmuring of the water, the soft sigh and swish as
the ship slips through was the only sound. All trans-
ports, supply ships and convoys are under light con-
trol, so that on all sides there is nothing but a blank
black wall. It is an eerie sensation, slipping thus
through the immense of the dark sea and <?lrv *
lonely sensation.

EARTH AND SOLDIERS 35

The men gathered in groups about the deck, but
there was none of the usual talking and laughing.
Occasionally, a whisper floats down the wind but
nothing more. Once the ship actually got under
way, the chattering mouths of our men were sealed.
An indescribable feeling, a lump of emotion heavy as
a stone, hangs beneath our hearts. We sense the ap-
proach of what? No one can say, yet everyone feels
it.

It is a strange silent night. All around, in the dark-
ness are fiery red dots, like fireflies. They are cigar-
ettes, stabbing the black curtain. There is no sound,
except the rhythmic, monotonous throb of the en-
gines. My body seems to tremble in tune with them.
This is the very moment, in fiction, when someone
should begin to sing in a low and melancholy voice.
Gradually, other voices would join in the chorus
until the sound swells and billows like a cloud.

What a splendidly dramatic scene! Yes, there is
the song. Someone up forward has begun, "How
far we have come from the homeland." Others take
up the song. I want to remain apart, free from this
sentiment, but I cannot . . . " 'Tis the land of Man-
churia, far, far from home/' Hot tears course down
my cheeks. Yes, even as I write, I am bitterly
weeping.

This is a night and this is a moment to draw one's

36 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

thoughts irresistibly toward home. How is every-
body? What are you all doing? What joy it would
be, just to be with you! The singing continues. First
is "War Friend", and then "Dawn in Camp". Oh,
they will spend all night singing. And here I am,
writing to you, longing for the dear faces and the
familiar scenes. Good night, my brother, may all of
you sleep well.

November 4, 1937
Aboard Ship.

Dear Brother:

These words that I am writing may be the last
you will ever have from me. We are landing tomor-
row morning at three o'clock.

The news is finally out. Our destination is not
Manchuria, or the Siberian border, or Canton. We
are going ashore in the heart of the battle area, at
Pei-sha, on Hangchow Bay. The whole region is
strongly entrenched and well-fortified. No detail of
this was spared us, tonight, when the enemy posi-
tions were shown on the map. Symbols in red ink
marked machine-gun nests and concrete fortifica-
tions. Behind them were a series of wriggling red
lines trenches, fully manned. The main force has

EARTH AND SOLDIERS 37

been ordered to strike at the village of Chinshan-
wei. The Arakawa unit, opening the attack, will veer
to the extreme right to protect the flanks.

Tomorrow at this time, I will be on shore, in
China, in enemy country. Alive or dead, who can
say? I do not think about it. At any rate, since a
fearful battle is expected, we have been given per-
mission to mail our letters.

The officers did say that there is considerable
question as to whether the enemy is entrenched in
any strength on the actual shore. Their positions ap-
pear to be back some distance. It is just possible that
we can walk ashore with no more difficulty than we
did the other day in that fishermen's village. A small
embankment, some seven feet high, is beyond the
beach. Once that is climbed, the whole story, for
better or worse, will be plain before us.

There is a good deal of hustle and bustle tonight,
making last-minute preparations. Instead of knap-
sacks, emergency rucksacks made of tent cloth have
been stitched up. In addition to the usual equip-
ment, we are carrying bamboo ladders for crossing
the many creeks and streams that crisscross this re-
gion, and for scaling walls. Everyone has a beer
bottle full of fresh water. The passwords are " (cen-
sored) " and " (censored) ".

Ammunition has been distributed, in double lots.

38 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

The reason for this is that, in the confusion of heavy
battle, men or groups of men may be cut off from
the rear. They must have enough ammunition to
defend themselves until assistance comes.

The weight of so many bullets is overwhelming.
Somebody remarked that the bullets alone are
enough to crash a man. Minato, the only veteran
among us, laughed grimly. He went through the
Manchurian campaign, six years ago, and was dec-
orated. "Bullets are the only thing you can depend
on at the front," he said. "You'll cherish them more
than food or water. You will find out."

The last evening meal was a silent affair. No one
spoke. There was none of the usual joking. The
men hardly even glanced at each other. They kept
their eyes on their rice bowls and their faces were
masks, blank and unrevealing. Wine was distrib-
uted, but we each took only a little bit. It seemed
to warm and encourage the men and then they
talked a little. But all they said was, "Let's hold
out," monotonously repeated.

Before tonight, we all joked about war and fight-
ing in a thoughtless, uncomprehending way. Some-
one would say, "You are certain to be killed first."
And the man to whom he spoke would retort, "Not
me. I think you will be the first victim. Look! Your
shadow is already growing thinner." Still another

EARTH AND SOLDIERS 39

said to a man from his same village, "What a pity
to leave such a good-looking bride behind you. But
don't worry. I will take care of her, better than
you could. So go ahead and die." They were so
serene.

But now the moment is at hand, there is no room
for this sort of talk. As a squad leader, I have had a
small duty which I have performed. I told my men,
"It is a real satisfaction to die in battle, like a petal
falling from the mountain cherry tree. Let us have
courage and fight well, hand-in-hand to the last min-
ute. If I am hit, Sakagami, you take command and
advance." This is all I could say. Words are empty
and meaningless. We speak to each other with
hearts and souls now.

It is getting late now, my brother. I must rest.
With luck and safety, this will not be my last letter.
And think of it, from now on there will be news of
acual fighting at the front. No more soldiers lolling
about under the blue sky. I feel a great strain and I
can say no more. Please give these letters to the
family.

To Father: Father, I hope you have been well. At
last, we are going into battle, landing tomorrow at
Hangchow Bay. I shall do my best, as you would
wish. Good-by.

40 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

To Mother: Tomorrow, we are going to face en-
emy fire. I know the charm you made for me will
protect me from harm. It is a great undertaking that
you may have to face, taking care of my family, but
remember that your daughter-in-law and your grand-
children love you and look upon you as the center of
our home. Be good to them always and pray that
your son may bring merit and distinction to our
house. Take the best care of yourself. Good-by,
Mother.

To My Wife: The great moment has come. To
me, there is no tomorrow. I know well what you are
thinking about, my dear wife. But be calm and
serene. Take care of the children.

To My Son: Takeshi, dear, your daddy is going to
fight with the Chinese soldiers soon. Do you re-
member the big sword that your granddaddy gave
me? With it, I shall cut and stab and knock down
enemy soldiers, like your beloved hero, Iwami Ju-
taro. Your daddy is going to bring home a sword and
a steel Chinese helmet as a souvenir for you.

Takeshi, dear, I want you to be a good boy, al-
ways. Be nice to your Mummy and Grandmummy
and all your teachers. Love your brothers and sister,
and study so that you may become a great man. I

EARTH AND SOLDIERS 41

see your little figure on the pier, waving a flag in
your little fist. Your daddy cherishes that picture
forever in his mind. Takeshi, Banzai! Daddy,
Banzai!

November 6, 1937

At Sung-lin-chen, China.

Dear Brother:

This is my first letter to you from the front. It
will have to be hurried, for we are to march through
the night starting at four o'clock this afternoon. I
want to tell you about the landing, yesterday.

After I finished my letter to you from the boat, I
lay down and tried, without success, to sleep. Every-
one was doing the same thing, pretending. In actual
fact, we were all wide-awake and many were staring
fixedly at some particular corner of the ceiling, as
though it were the most interesting thing they had
ever seen. They were tense, restless. Long before
two o'clock, that morning, some of them rose and
began preparing for the landing. I heard someone
say, "Don't forget your ticket to Paradise." Another
man laughed and replied that he had it in his hand.
He meant the metal identification plate.

Previously, the ship had come to anchor. We

42 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

heard her engines slow and then cease altogether.
Not a light showed anywhere on board. It was a
strange and exciting sensation to realize that we
were in Chinese waters, very close to the land. The
section commander entered. His face was grim and
set. He gave the order for us to get ready.

It occurred to me that I should shave. As I told
you many of us let our beards grow. We had amused
ourselves in comparing the length and joking about
our appearance. But it seemed to me, now, that I
did not want to be killed and found with this ugly
black fringe on my face. So I wet my face with cold
water, applied the soap, and tried to get it off. It was
long and tough, and it hurt. I noticed a number of
men doing the same thing.

And then came the order we had been awaiting
all these days, "Board the launches!" It was the
voice of the commander, on the upper deck.

I suddenly had an irresistible desire to go to the
toilet. I had already been there, two or three times
during the night, but still it seemed I must go again.
I was heavily loaded with my landing equipment,
but I went anyway. The place was crowded. One by
one, the men were making their way toward the
deck, eyes fixed and unseeing, faces grim and
motionless.

It was pitch black on deck. On our right, like two

EARTH AND SOLDIERS 43

fiery eyes, two red lights shone from the shore. They
were the only things you could see in the whole
world, at that moment. Someone whispered, "That's
a signal marker, to show us the place to land/ 7 At
the same moment, someone squeezed my hand and
whispered, "Mr. Squad Commander, let's do our
best/' The whisperer was close to my ear, but I
could not see him.

Perhaps it was the consciousness that the enemy,
armed and probably ready, was so close at hand that
made us so silent. The stillness was like a blanket.
Somewhere in that black wall that we faced were
Chinese soldiers. It was easy to imagine them, whis-
pering as we were and training their rifles in our
direction.

Then the men began to go aboard the launches.
The metallic rattle of our gear, as we moved,
sounded faintly all around. We went down rope
ladders. As I descended, I could hear the water
gurgling around the sides of the launch. Suddenly,
I was in the boat.

It was still impossible to identify each other.
However, I had counted my men as they entered
the launch, so I answered in the affirmative when
the section leader asked if all were aboard. The
launch engine then puffed and snorted and sud-
denly began to roar with a thunderous series of ex-

44 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

plosions that seemed to me would warn every
Chinese within a thousand miles of our presence.
We felt the boat move. Unconsciously, my eyes
turned toward the hull of the mother ship, a darker
splotch than the surrounding darkness. It seemed
friendly and protecting. We could hear the other
boats around us, but no word was audible as we
slipped smoothly into the darkness.

Suddenly, the motor coughed, choked and died.
Accident! 1 saw the navy engineer tampering with
the motor, but it did not start again. And then I
realized that we were in a fairly strong current, for
the shadow of the mother ship faded rapidly to our
left, as we were carried downstream. We tried to
signal with our pocket flashes, but there was no an-
swering signal from the decks. Another launch
passed near us and we shouted. But no reply.

It might have been a very dangerous accident, if
we had drifted helplessly far downstream, away
from the main force. In an hour, the dawn would
break and we would be visible from shore. Because
of the darkness, it was impossible to gauge the speed
of our movement, but we could tell we were reced-
ing. The engineer continued to work over the mo-
tor. It took him about twenty minutes before it
started again. We raced to get back into position.
How it was done in the darkness, I do not know.

EARTH AND SOLDIERS 45

In the distance, the two red balls glowed, unwink-
ingly. All around us, like the roar of a million guns,
the launches sounded. It occurred to me that the
Chinese might also see that signal on shore and
wait for us there. Someone, as though answering
my unspoken question, said the light was so con-
structed as to throw its rays in only one direction.

I heard the section commander again asking
about us, the 2nd Squad. I ordered the men to
count off in the darkness. All thirteen responded.
"Is everyone all right?" I asked. "Yes," someone
said. I recognized the voice of Tonari, a private.

On and on went the launch. We seemed to have
been traveling for hours. Actually, it was probably
only a few minutes. And we waited, expecting at
any instant to hear the sound of enemy fire. I real-
ized that my hands were gripping my rifle so hard
that they hurt. The men mounted our machine gun
on the bow of the launch and we all lay down on
the floor, huddling closely together. I realized that
someone was lying heavily across my feet.

Meanwhile, the dawn had begun to break. The
inky blackness was slowly suffused with lead gray,
a gray that tinged the water and everything within
view with its own peculiar color. It was still impos-
sible to see land. In the gathering light, I could see,
when I raised my head, the wreaths of mist, rising

46 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

lazily ahead of us. Whether they marked the shore
line, some low and steaming mud flat, or whether
they came directly from the water, I could not
determine.

We were touching land before we knew it. As I
half knelt, looking ahead, the launch slithered into
shallow water and went aground. "Over the side,
quickly/' shouted the section commander.

Instantly, I was in the water. It reached to my
knees and I gasped from the shock of contact with
its icy cold. None of us was wearing shoes. We had
been outfitted with some especially heavy socks,
that had rubber soles. Now we knew the reason.
Mud! It would have been nearly impossible to walk
through it in army shoes. It clung to our feet like
tar, sucking away with every step so that each move-
ment was a strain. My feet seemed to sink instantly
into this sticky glue, as I waded painfully forward.
It may have been a form of quicksand.

We pushed ahead, through a gray and misty
world. Gradually, we emerged from the water and
found ourselves on a flat, muddy shore. It was so
level that water and earth seemed to melt together.
Any slight rise in the water would have sent it flood-
ing over the whole flat. Not even now could we see
anything, nor had we heard anything. It did not
occur to me that one phase of the landing, perhaps

EARTH AND SOLDIERS 47

the most dangerous part, was now finished. We
were out of the water, finished with the wading
where a man must move slowly and lumberingly.
We were actually on land. I tried to identify this
shore as it had appeared on the maps, to locate some
mark. It was impossible. Nothing looked as I had
imagined it.

In the landing drills that I have told you about,
we deployed immediately on reaching the shore.
Now, automatically, we did this. A few more steps
and then someone murmured that there was a black
object lying dead ahead. Perhaps it was the bank
that we had been told about. Cautiously, we ad-
vanced toward it. It gradually took shape and ap-
peared to be a sort of pier, built of logs, probably
used for fishing at high tide. It was very quiet.

Then, without warning, there came the pumping
cough of a light machine gun on our left. Every eye
turned in that direction, but we could see nothing,
nor hear the ugly twang of flying bullets. Almost in
the same split second, there was the crackle of rifle
fire and the deeper undertone of heavy machine
guns. The thought flashed through my mind that
some of our men were under fire, but that we were,
so far, unobserved.

Light was coming fast now and I could make out
other piers, like the one we first sighted, and also a

48 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

sort of tower that appeared to have metal sides.
Whang! It sounded as though someone had plucked
a piano wire with a steel hook. The bullet passed
close to my head. I fell flat on my face in the mud,
pressing against it with all my might. The men did
likewise. They went down like ninepins. And then
a hail of bullets flew over us. Just ahead, 1 could see
tiny pin points of light, from the explosions of rifles
or machine guns, I knew not which.

We were in a bad position, exposed on a level
mud flat. It was now sufficiently light to show us
that we were still about 800 yards from dry land,
800 yards of open space between us and the position
from which the shots were coming. I gave the order
to fix bayonets. Then, half creeping, half wriggling,
we advanced as best we could. We already were
completely caked with mud. "Space yourselves/' I
called, "stay as far apart as possible." The bullets
were coming faster and faster, but so far none of
us was hit. We could not see the enemy.

I changed direction, veering sharply toward the
left, and the men followed. Bit by bit, we crossed
the flat. Suddenly, to my surprise, I saw a company
of our machine gunners ahead of us. They were ad-
vancing more rapidly, in spite of the fire from ahead.

A soldier near us suddenly staggered and fell.
Two or three of his comrades stopped beside him,

EARTH AND SOLDIERS 49

but almost instantly an army nurse appeared and
told them to go ahead. The nurse began examining
the man. We did not wait to see more. It was just
an incident, hardly real, without meaning.

The next thing I saw was our section commander,
naked sword in hand, marching erect We all leaped
to our feet and followed, breaking into a dead ran.
In an instant, we reached one of the log piers, and
hurdled over the side. I expected, there, to find the
Chinese and to plunge into a hand-to-hand fight.
It was empty!

We were now beneath the bank, rimming the
shore, that had been outlined on the maps. Standing
in the lee of this, we were safe from the rifle fire,
which suddenly, magically ceased. The enemy must
have been waiting, with their guns mounted on top
of the bank. They fled when we emerged from the
mist.

It was a moment's breathing space and I took
advantage of it. I was breathless with excitement
and from running, and I hastily sat down, hauling
the canteen from my belt. Sweat poured down from
my temples. I gulped water so fast that it spilled
over my face and ran down my uniform.

Then I looked around at the men. All were safe.
We glanced at each other and, for the first time,
saw what strange apparitions we had become. Our

50 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

hands, faces, uniforms, helmets, guns all were
smeared with mud. It clung to our cheeks and little
rolls of it hung in our eyebrows, beneath which our
red, bloodshot eyes rolled as excitedly as those of
demons. At first, we were mutually startled. Then,
we burst into roars of laughter. It broke the tension.
We relaxed and indescribable warmth surged up in-
side me, a sensation of security and well-being. It
was glorious, miraculous, just to be alive. Life was
sweet and good.

But we had only a moment of this. The order
came, almost immediately, to advance again and we
went up the bank. Ahead were trees, and we saw
shadowy figures darting in and about them. Some-
one raised his rifle and tried to sight on them, but
someone else called, "Wait! That may be some of
our own men/' There was another bank, dropping
more gently than the one on shore and, as we
started down the sides, my foot caught in a creeper.
I fell heavily.

Almost at the same moment, again on our left,
there came a terrific burst of machine-gun fire. It
was answered by another from some point near at
hand. Our men had established contact with the
enemy. The sound of battle swelled and became an
inferno. Bullets were flying in all directions. We, in
our position, could see nothing. We crept forward

EARTH AND SOLDIERS 51

through the underbrush, bent double, or occasion-
ally flat on the ground. Bullets whined above and
around us, snipping off the leaves and sinking with
a dull "chunk 77 into the mud. Finally, we reached
another sharp rise of ground and again halted.

Again the canteens came out. We were all per-
spiring and breathless, whether from excitement or
exertion would be hard to say. Shirahashi, a private,
uncorked a bottle of fizzy cider and passed it among
us. I took a long pull. It tasted so good that my
throat seemed to ache. All our senses were sharp-
ened, accentuated, by the excitement and the dan-
ger. Everything seemed to come to us in more vivid
colors than it would normally have done.

I finally got up and moved away a short distance,
trying to reconnoiter the ground. Near by, I saw
Commander Shimizu, resting a moment with an-
other group of our men. There was a gentle smile
on his face, and he seemed calm and poised as ever.
"Nice little adventure, eh, Corporal?" he said.

We were in some badly broken ground. It looked
as though it originally might have been some kind
of farm. Ditches for irrigation ran in every direction.
The land was not well-cleared. There were evi-
dences, too, that the Chinese had been here, in
force. We could see where their machine guns had
been mounted and where the ammunition had been

52 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

piled. Here and there the ground was littered with
empty machine-gun cartridges. They must have
abandoned a good position rapidly, firing a few
bursts and then withdrawing as rapidly as we
advanced.

While I watched, a goat and two chickens came
wandering out from the straw huts, as serene and
unconcerned as though the nearest war were on the
other side of the world. Takahashi, one of the sol-
diers, saw them almost at the same moment that I
did and one of the chickens suffered the immemo-
rial fate of its breed. Takahashi caught it, but was
unable to get the other. "Our dinner, tonight at
least, is now assured/' he said and, sitting down,
began immediately to pluck the prize. Meanwhile,
someone told us that the wounded man was not
seriously injured, A bullet had passed right through
his thigh. But it was our first casualty and it made
a deep impression on all who saw it.

After a short rest, we resumed our advance,
marching cautiously down the right bank of a creek
that ran through this tangled terrain. We soon met
a machine-gun company and Kato, the commander,
was bursting with pride. He told us his unit had
flanked the Chinese, shortly after the landing, sur-
prised a large force and sent it into disorderly re-
treat. The whole flank of the Chinese line crumpled.

EARTH AND SOLDIERS 53

When the machine gunners occupied the former
enemy position, they found five corpses literally
riddled with bullets, Kato said.

This may have been the reason for the compara-
tively easy advance our unit had been able to make.
Apparently caught between Japanese forces attack-
ing on two sides, the enemy was thrown into con-
fusion and went into quick retreat as an alternative
to being trapped and annihilated. It was difficult to
follow all the different movements of our men and
of the Chinese. At the time when these were taking
place, it was impossible. The whole battle was a
confused, moiling movement of troops, friend and
foe alike threading their ways through the maze of
creeks and tangled underbrush. Only afterward
could anyone tell what had happened.

The same condition continued, now, as we started
forward again. A rain of bullets came from our right.
We dropped to the ground and began creeping
ahead. Further in the distance, several columns of
thick black smoke suddenly rose to the sky. Some
of the Japanese must have reached that point and
set fire to enemy huts or buildings. In a momentary
silence the faint crackle of flames could be heard.
We ourselves set fire to all Chinese huts or sheds
that we found, in order to prevent them from being
used as places of concealment. Several times, we

54 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

were surprised to hear terrific explosions in these
burning hovels, indicating that hand grenades or,
perhaps, even shells had been stored inside.

The creek wound tortuously through the foliage.
I saw three scouts from the 3rd Squad suddenly leap
to their feet and sprint ahead, dodging and twisting
among the underbrush. There was no sign of a road.
We continued to advance, beneath an unceasing
fire of rifles and machine guns that we could not see.
So far as I could tell, however, we had no casualties.

At last a fairly large house, with white walls, came
into view. We encircled it on three sides and trained
machine guns on every door and window and crev-
ice. Our fire was answered and, for a brief space, a
hot engagement ensued. In the smoke and confu-
sion, it was difficult to spot the exact places where
the enemy had mounted their machine guns, but
the guns were there, spraying us with lead, like
water from a hose. They were invisible to us and we
to them. The Japanese were deployed in a semi-
circle, taking full advantage of every tree, rock and
depression in the ground, and firing steadily at the
big house. Suddenly, I saw one of our men draw
back his arm and throw a hand grenade toward the
house. Before it struck, he had sent another into the
air and another. Three deafening explosions shook

EARTH AND SOLDIERS 55

the ground and the whole house was bathed in
clouds of thick smoke.

With a yell, we jumped to our feet and ran to-
ward the place. But now there was no answering
fire. Either the grenades had landed squarely among
the Chinese machine gunners, or had frightened
them into retreat. At any rate, they were silenced.
Nothing but the body of a dead soldier was seen.

Then it began to rain. The rest of the day was a
strange, tangled nightmare of slogging through the
mud, sometimes hip-deep in the dirty, turgid creeks,
always soaked to the skin, loading and firing inces-
santly, and incessantly dodging from bush to bush
and from shelter to shelter. The bright red of burn-
ing structures and the sound of bullets streaking
viciously around me is part of this memory. I never
knew in what direction we went, nor how far. All I
know is that we pressed forward and the enemy
slipped backward, ghostlike. Here and there we
came across their dead and wounded. Once, we
caught a brief glimpse of about twenty Chinese,
running from a village. A machine gunner swung
the nose of his weapon toward them and pressed the
triggers. The gun chattered and three of them fell,
as though they had tripped in the creepers.

Through the din, a queer, thin sound, like the

56 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

whistle of a flute, penetrated to us. At home, we
would have thought it was a noodle merchant, trun-
dling his cart through the streets. Here, it was some-
thing else again. Almost immediately, the enemy fire
increased to a regular hurricane. Somewhere, near
at hand, they counterattacked. My unit jumped into
an irrigation trench, ready for the assault. But it did
not touch us. Elsewhere, our men came to grips
with the Chinese, One of our officers was killed and
we suffered a great many wounded. Then, as sud-
denly as they appeared, the Chinese were gone
again.

We came upon another small, thatch-roofed
farmhouse, apparently deserted. I entered, found
nothing, went outside and was walking around some
strawstacks when my eye caught the glint of blue
and I stopped. Thrusting my rifle ahead of me, I
jumped toward the object, expecting to find an
enemy soldier.

It was only an old woman, a very old woman,
clutching a little girl in her lap. Both were trembling
with fear. The child buried its face in the woman's
breast. Near by was an old man, his face deeply
wreathed in wrinkles. He gripped a cane and stared
at me with a dull, vacant expression. My bayonet
was pointing directly at the old woman anc( she
clutched the child to her with a convulsive motion,

EARTH AND SOLDIERS 57

at the same time holding out her hands as though
to ward off the expected thrust. My heart bled for
these old and defenseless people. "Poor old woman/'
I said, "why didn't you get away from here before
the fighting started?" Of course, they did not under-
stand Japanese and yet I believe she must have felt,
intuitively, what I was saying. Her tired old eyes
turned from the bayonet point and swept over the
cultivated lands around us, taking in the irrigation
ditches, the rice paddies, and the piles of harvested
rice. It was their home. Confused and paralyzed
with fear, they could only sit there and wait for
whatever must come. As I stood there, a bullet
whined through the air and buried itself in the
strawstacks, a few feet away. The old woman
twitched and cried out, slightly. The little girl cau-
tiously moved her head and peeped at me for an
instant, then turned away again. We left this and
marched away.

Sometime later, and I do not know what part of
the day it was, we were caught in a bad position. It
was then that I thought I should never see the light
of another day.

As I told you, the swift flow of battle, the flux
and movement of different groups, going in differ-
ent directions, was all very confused and tangled.
Our duty, at the beginning of the attack, had been

58 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

very clear. We were in the right wing, entrusted
with the task of fighting off any flanking movements
by the Chinese, which would have endangered the
entire force. Runners kept us in touch with the
troops on either side of us and of our own relative
position. Finally, we had advanced to the foot of a
rounded, sloping hill, on the top of which were four
houses. Some enemy troops apparently were man-
ning them and we were about to charge up the slope
when word came that some units on our own flank
had been trapped at the coast.

Thus it was, a battle that seemed to be a series
of concentric circles, one within the other. We tried
to move off immediately and relieve the endangered
group, but we were caught in a cross fire between a
group of pillboxes on our right and from the houses
on the hill in front of us, where the Chinese had
placed machine guns. All we could do now was to
fight with the enemy on the hilltop to reach the be-
leaguered unit. In an effort to approach the hill, we
were finally brought to a shallow creek, facing an
open field some two hundred yards in width. To
have tried to cross it would have been suicidal, since
we would have been within plain view of Chinese
machine gunners on two sides. Alow bank, less than
a foot high, afforded some shelter on the edge of

EARTH AND SOLDIERS 59

this creek and we hastily deployed behind it, to ex-
amine the situation.

The Chinese in the houses on top of the hill im-
mediately swung their guns toward us and raked the
embankment with a withering fire. The bullets spat-
tered into the mud, kicking up little clouds, but
none of us was hit. I saw one Chinese, apparently
directing the fire. He stood in the window of one
of the houses, exposing himself fearlessly. Mean-
while, Naito, our machine gunner, hoisted his
weapon to the top of the shallow breastwork and
fired. As he heard me mutter, "Too high," he de-
pressed the nose of the gun. Then it was too low.
He changed it, the barest fraction, and again pressed
the trigger. We saw the latticework of the window
splinter and fall to the ground, and a cloud of dust
billowed around the window where one of the guns
had been. It must have silenced the battery com-
pletely, for there was no more fire from there, nor
did the range finder show himself again.

It is odd how the sound of one's own guns can be
such sweet music. When the enemy is firing, the
explosions and whistle of the bullets seem ugly and
vicious in the extreme. But when it is your own fire
that you hear, it sounds pleasant, almost friendly.

I turned my head and saw that some more of our

60 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

men had taken a position behind us, sheltered from
the fire from the houses by a slight rise in the
ground. I then saw that my squad had advanced
ahead of the line and was in a sort of salient, from
which we could be reached by Chinese fire from
several different directions. The din was terrific, all
the while.

"Go to the right/ 7 I yelled at the unit behind us.
"We can't advance if you don't/' My voice was
drowned in the roar of the rifles and machine guns.
Impatiently, I yelled a second time. "Why don't
you follow us? Come on!" But they could not hear.

Then, in the distance there was a deeper note, a
heavy, lazy boom that reverberated over the whole
scene. In an instant, something that sounded like a
locomotive crossing a bridge thundered over our
heads; there was a terrific explosion on the hill near
the houses. The navy was giving us a covering fire.
Thus far, no heavy artillery had been brought into
action by either side. But now we knew that our
own ships, in the bay, were opening fire.

Several other shells dropped near by. Next, some
naval airplanes made their appearance. They were
flying very high at first, but then they began to circle
lower and lower over the four houses that blocked
our advance. They looked like hawks as they began
to dive. The roar of their motors was greater than

EARTH AND SOLDIERS 61

all the other sounds put together. They plummeted
straight toward the earth, then suddenly leveled off
and shot upward. As they made the turn, they re-
leased bombs, and fountains of earth and smoke
rose upward. We could not see whether they had
hit the houses or not.

Immediately afterward, a shell from one of the
ships landed squarely on the tiles of one of the
houses. It smashed in a big hole, and the whole
place shuddered and trembled. I thought this must
surely end the resistance, but it did not. Fighting
bravely, the Chinese continued to sweep the ground
below and the sky above with their machine guns.
I had a moment's worry lest the navy gunners, not
knowing we were so close to the hill, might drop a
shell on us. We could feel the detonations and the
displacement of air as the shells landed, we were so
close. But they continued to fly over our heads,
striking the houses until it seemed to me that noth-
ing could live through such a bombardment. The
airplanes returned and bombed the position from
the air, and then there was silence.

I thought that part of the engagement was over,
but, a little while later, the Chinese started firing
again from the same position and the bullets began
to sing just the same. We were still lying almost
glued behind the flimsy embankment. I noticed that

62 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

the rain had stopped, but the sky was dark and
cloudy, and it was impossible to tell the time of day.
I looked at my wrist watch, but it was broken. The
glass was shattered and the face was badly smeared
with mud.

The tired men dropped to the ground, lit cigar-
ettes and began chattering, as though nothing more
serious than maneuvers had been taking place. I was
surprised. They began talking about women and
food, and anything but the war. Personally, with
night coming along, I was gripped by a deep anxiety
over our position. It seemed to me that we were in
very great danger, unless it could be consolidated in
some way. I tried not to show my feelings.

Then all of a sudden I heard someone shout,
"Norimoto, first grade, has been killed/ 7 He was a
dispatch rider. All day, he had been dashing back
and forth between one unit and another, carrying
messages of the section chiefs. Something like re-
sentment welled up in my heart when I heard of his
death. I felt like charging toward the enemy to
avenge him.

Then another voice called, "Second Squad! Fall
back!"

"What? Fall back? Why should we? Whose
order is this?" I cried. I was angry at this order com-
ing on top of the news we had just heard. I wanted

EARTH AND SOLDIERS 63

anything at that moment but to fall back. Then
Yoshida, another messenger, came wriggling across
the ground to us, with the order to retreat. A com-
pany was being formed to attack a village at some
other point and we were not going to relieve the
endangered unit.

Then another voice called, "Why don't you fall
back? Hurry up, there!" I turned and saw the com-
pany commander, peering over one side of the
mound. So I gave the order to withdraw, telling the
men to drop out of line one by one, bending low.
The air was thick with bullets. Finally, I was alone.
My heart beat fast when my turn came to leave the
shelter, precarious as it was, and jump into the open
with bullets around me. I gave myself no time to
think of it, but leaped to my feet and ran, bending
double. It gave me a strange feeling to expose my
back to the enemy. I could almost feel the impact
of a bullet. Five feet, ten feet, ten yards would I
never get there. Then, after an eternity in that open
space with bullets for companions, I hurtled into a
ditch, headfirst, and landed in the knee-deep water.

The others were there, all safe. We all burst into
laughter when we looked at each other. Everyone
was covered with mud and dripping with reddish
slime. "This is a dirty war," I gasped, wiping the
muck out of my eyes and mouth.

64 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

Half wading, we sloshed down this ditch toward
the main company. Most of the men were looking
at a house, some two hundred yards in the rear.
Their faces were intent, serious. Some soldiers car-
rying a stretcher suddenly emerged from it and hur-
ried through the smoke and bullets to an ambulance,
sheltered near by. It was the transportation of the
first dead soldier's body. It made a profound im-
pression on us, but we did not talk about it, for that
seemed like talking about our own fate.

We fell into column and began marching toward
the spot where we were going to attack. We looked
like a parade of clay dolls. Finally, we came out to a
highway, within sight of the sea. Floating in the
bay were (censored) gunboats and transports. It
was a comforting sight. Eventually, we came to a
temple, the Temple of the Maiden, and, finding it
had become headquarters for the detachment, we
halted and fell out.

We stacked our arms, washed in a near-by stream
and ate our first food of that day. The meal was a
mixture of steamed rice and wheat.

As I ate, I sat beside Sublieutenant Yamazaki,
the section leader. In a low voice, he told me about
the death of Norimoto. He said the messenger had
been sitting near him, while an order was being
written. A bullet whistled very near, but the officer

EARTH AND SOLDIERS 65

paid no attention to it. A moment later, when the
dispatch was finished, he turned to hand it to Nori-
moto and found him on the ground, blood gushing
from his mouth. The bullet had struck him right in
the mouth and he had fallen over without a sound.
The sublieutenant picked him up, but Norimoto
could not speak.

"He looked at me/ 7 he said, "and then his eyes
turned toward his right hand, which was just touch-
ing the ground. He touched the earth and seemed
to be trying to write something. Whatever it was,
he never finished. Then I had to go. But before I
left, I wrote on the ground, in large characters 'The
Spot of Noriinoto's Death/ I found a wild flower
and placed it in his hand. It's such a shame/ 7

Of course, other of our men had been killed, too,
on this first day in battle. Norimoto having been
the first, and having died in this manner, made more
of an impression on us. Besides, Sublieutenant
Yamazaki described Norimoto's death with such
impressive pictures. Before the war, he had been
something of a poet. His writings regularly ap-
peared in a magazine called Poetry and the Poetic
Mind. He could not express himself otherwise when
Norimoto died. And so this casualty affected us all
more deeply than the others.

Night came on, a pitch-black night, and more

66 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

rain. We snatched a little rest inside the temple
and then were ordered out for sentry duty. We
crossed the stream, clambering over a rotten, water-
logged boat, and took up our position in a small
house, about a hundred yards away. We had in-
tended to use this for our station, but an officer
pointed out to us that the house was not well-
situated for guarding against a stealthy approach
by the enemy. So we went out into the rain, de-
ployed in a line and dug in with our trench shovels.
Long before we finished it, we were drenched to
the skin. Then the trench itself began to fill with
water, so that in a very short time, it was above our
shoe tops. It was deathly cold. At first, I tried mov-
ing about as much as possible, to keep warm. Then
I elected to stand perfectly still, like a wax man-
nequin, because every time my uniform touched
some part of my body a new chill would run
through me.

"It's like standing in a cold bath/' I said to one
of the men. "Aren't you cold?"

"Yes, I am/' he replied. "Very cold. I hope we
won't have to pass the night like this."

Quite suddenly, his wish was fulfilled. There was
a burst of machine-gun fire, just ahead, and again
the air was filled with the vicious song of bullets.
It seemed to me that the Chinese had fired from

EARTH AND SOLDIERS 67

practically a point-blank range, yet the shots passed
above our heads. I ordered the men to fix bayonets,
thinking we were about to be attacked. Instantly,
we forgot about our discomfort and leaned against
the trench, eyes straining through the darkness. I
had no sensations of cold or wet, at all. Such is the
human mind.

Then the rain stopped and the insects began to
chirp in the high, wet grasses. When another flurry
of rain swept across the field, they stopped and,
when it was gone, they began anew. It occurred to
me that these insects might be very good sentries
for us. Their song, I thought, would continue as
long as they were not disturbed and I supposed
they would surely become silent if the enemy tried
to creep through the high grasses toward our posi-
tion.

It was some time after midnight before we were
relieved.

It was a grim pleasure to relinquish our muddy
tub. We stumbled through the darkness back to
the temple grounds. Many of the men were huddled
in groups outside, having been unable to find room
inside. Having just come from a watch, we were
given somewhat special treatment. A soldier led us
to a small hut, some 500 yards from the temple.
By crowding together, one against the other, we

68 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

were able to get Inside. It was then about two
o'clock. I leaned against the wall, the bodies o the
men pressing against mine on all sides, and tried
to go to sleep. I was able to doze for a few moments,
but in spite of my great weariness, the chill and
the restless movements of the men prevented any
sleep.

Thus ended the day of my debut on the field.

November 6, 1937.

The cold of the night was nothing to the par-
alyzing chill that beset us in the early morning
when we left the hut. It was a bitter, penetrating
cold, accentuated no doubt by the dampness of our
clothes. We came tumbling out of our hut and ran
up and down, stamping and flailing our arms in an
effort to restore circulation. The weather was un-
changed, gray, cloudy and cold. The bullets were
unchanged. They came, in broken rhythms, singing
the same malicious song. Returning to the Temple
of the Maiden, we saw that we were in the midst
of farming country, crisscrossed with rice paddies
and dotted with groves of bamboo. There were few
houses. We breakfasted on cold, lumpy rice and
canned beef, and pressed close around a small fire
of twigs, trying to warm ourselves.

EARTH AND SOLDIERS 69

While we were talking, Sublieutenant Katayama
joined us. He said his scouting party had captured
a Chinese officer during the night, discovered some
important military papers in his uniform, and
learned that the Chinese had been warned, in ad-
vance, of our projected landing. This was a great
surprise. I would have expected a more vigorous
defense of the shore, in that case, with actual hand-
to-hand fighting, if necessary. Instead, the enemy
had remained in concealment as we waded up the
shallows and withdrew steadily as we advanced. The
officer said the Chinese told him their information
had been that the attack was to be made by a rela-
tively weak Japanese unit. Finding us in such
strength, perhaps, they became discouraged and re-
treated without making a serious contest of it.

Meanwhile, the word circulated that Norimoto's
funeral was to be held immediately. His body had
lain in the temple through the night. We were
soon to march and the body could not be taken.
I followed a group of men to a spot in the rear of
the temple. There, a grave was already being dug
and the body lay, covered with a canvas, on the
ground near by. I went up to Imarnura, an under
officer, who was in charge of the burial and said,
"Sir, I beg permission to have Norimoto's body
cremated. We can easily carry his ashes with us/'

70 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

Imamura looked thoughtful but did not reply im-
mediately. 'We can't expect much in the field/'
I continued, "We all realize that. Yet, our fate is
likely to be the same as his. We would all prefer
to have our ashes taken home rather than to become
a part of the dust of this continent" I knew I was
being impertinent, yet I could not do otherwise.

The officer listened gravely and then, without
answering me directly, >gave the order to prepare
for cremation. The men all seemed relieved. A pit
was dug, bridged over with interlacing branches of
a tree, and the body was placed on top.

Before the fire was lighted, the men collected
armloads of purple and white daisies, and com-
pletely covered poor Norimoto with them. Then
the flame was set. Fujita, a first-grade private, and
two others whom I did not know, began chanting
a Buddhist sutra. In private life, each was a priest.
We all stood, rigid, with fixed bayonets, in salute.
The tears ran down rny face in a stream.

In a few moments, the body was wrapped in a
mantle of clean yellow flame. It twisted in the fire
in a very lifelike manner. I was brimming with sor-
row, shot through with a strong strain of resent-
ment. Then came the order to march. Reluctantly,
I moved away.

Does it seem strange to you that we should be

EARTH AND SOLDIERS 71

so affected by the death of one man, when in war
so many must die? The only explanation is that this
was our first casualty, our first stunning collision
with the great mystery. We were not yet accus-
tomed to it, not yet able to regard it without emo-
tion, to see it as something commonplace.

So, onward. We began what was to be a long
march. It led us again across the highway overlook-
ing the bay, where our own transports and naval
convoys were anchored. The water was black with
small boats, skittering back and forth between the
ships and the shore. Troops were coming ashore in
the same launches we had used. Bigger boats were
bringing in horses and gun carriages. The road was
choked with troops and supplies, all the jumbled
impedimenta of modern warfare.

Here, we experienced our first thrill of pride as
veterans. In contrast to the troops we met, with
their clean, fresh uniforms, we looked like a parade
of sewer rats. Yet we were suddenly proud of our
stained and dirty clothes. We had been through
battle. These men had not. We were their seniors
in war. They examined us closely. Some of them
said, "It must have been a hard fight/' Others,
"Thanks for your good work." The mental com-
fort of this is difficult to explain. In our pride,
we already began to forget the discomforts

72 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

and the dangers we had undergone in yesterday's
battle.

Three miles further, the highway bent sharply to
the right and brought us into a small village called
Sung-lin-chen. We crossed a small bridge. Lying
beside it, still gripping his bugle tightly in one hand,
was the body of a young Chinese bugler. He was
very young, boyish, small and delicate of build. I
saluted as I passed.

The village was a deserted shambles. Obviously
it had been an army headquarters, for the streets
were littered with parts of uniforms, bits of torn
map, and chairs and tables. The houses bore the
unmistakable marks of looting. Inside, we found
enemy helmets, guns, bullets. But the article that
brought a cry of joy from us was nothing like these
martial prizes. It was an iron kettle!

The gray clouds were breaking and patches of
blue showed between them. It was noon and the
warm sun was dispelling the mist. We were told
we would remain in this village for several hours,
so the men instantly began foraging for things to
put in that iron kettle. Others started to undress,
pulling fresh underwear from their kits and washing
their uniforms. In a few moments, we had small
resemblance to any army unit. The creek was lined

EARTH AND SOLDIERS 73

with men scraping and scrubbing and pounding.
I did likewise.

My thousand-stitches belt had undergone a great
transformation. From spotless white silk, it had be-
come brown and unrecognizable, a limp rag that
looked as though it had been boiled in soya sauce.
The red, yellow and black stitches had faded and
run together forming a dull smudge. The red em-
broidered charm bag that my mother had given
me was the same way. Where it had lain against
me, the flesh was stained with red. My feet were
badly swollen and so covered with old and new
blisters that I scarcely recognized them.

Almost all the men were suffering from bowel
trouble, probably from drinking the dirty water
from the creeks and standing in the chill rain. We
all hastily swallowed some pills, which were sup-
posed to be good for this disorder. Finally, lunch
was announced and we fell to, like vultures. The
big iron kettle was filled to the brim with chicken
and vegetables and there was freshly steamed rice.
No fine banquet, no matter how sumptuous, will
live in my memory as long as that meal.

Afterward, I wandered through the village and
finally entered a small building, ringed with a bam-
boo fence. It must have been a school, originally,

74 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

then later occupied by some army staff. Books were
scattered about and a great many army hats with
the Nationalist Government symbol, the white star
on a blue field. And there were more maps and
books and collections of war songs sticking in the
desks. It was easy to see what these Chinese children
had been given to study, how assiduously they were
being trained in nationalism and hatred for Japan.

Dr. Sun Yat-sen's book, The Three Principles of
the People, was in every desk. Here was a textbook
on Social Welfare. There was a History of Great
CJiina. I found a map of Manchukuo, entitled,
"The Map of National Disgrace". It treated this
territory as part of China.

Now I am going to finish this long letter. I am
lying on my stomach, my back bare to the warm
sunlight. In the distance, the hum of airplane
motors mingles with the throb of heavy artillery.
We have been told that the battle has just begun.
Our most serious losses were sustained by the Shiki
party, which was surrounded on three sides as it
waded ashore. Men were shot down, at almost
point-blank range, before they ever emerged from
the shallows. They say our men tied themselves to
the bodies of their comrades to keep them from
floating away. A naval landing party has collected
all of these. I knew the men of this unit and I

EARTH AND SOLDIERS 75

wonder, now, which of them are dead and which
are still alive. Fortunately, our main force reached
shore without serious difficulty.

We march at four and I hope to sleep a little
before that. So good-by. I hope you can read my
scrawly writing.

November 9, 1937
At Feng-cheng-chen.

Dear Brother:

I am writing this in a Chinese house, against
which bullets are striking in an even, regular ca-
dence. Fortunately, the walls are thick enough so
that we are all quite safe. One candle lights my
page. All the men are asleep, except one private
and myself. He is recording the events of the past
day in his diary. Most of us have been very meticu-
lous about keeping up our diaries. No matter how
tired the men are, they write down what has hap-
pened and how they felt, before they go to sleep.
I suppose that is because life seems unusually sweet
to us and the events of each day, however com-
monplace, appear to be very much worth putting
on paper. We never know what tomorrow may
bring, so we relive today in our diaries.

76 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

Nakagawa, the other man who is awake, has just
glanced at me and I said, "You'd better get some
sleep. We probably will have some fighting tomor-
row/' He smiled and replied, "And you too, Mr.
Squad Commander/' Before I close my eyes, I
want to tell you about the last three days.

I will remember them as long as I live, not be-
cause they contained much action or high adven-
ture, but because they have been as full of pain
and discomfort as any I ever hope to know again.
The story is merely one of marching, of mud, rain,
blisters, weariness, a good deal of danger, and a
little blood.

We resumed march at four in the afternoon of
the sixth, passing out into the rice paddies, which
were slushy from the rain and from the churning
feet of the company that preceded us. Each step
was an effort. Either we slipped and fell, or stuck
in the mud up to our ankles. After a time, the road
seemed to take on an actively malicious personality.
We cursed it as though it were alive. China's
mucilaginous mud is China's great ally.

And then our packs began to chafe. They seemed
to gain weight with every step we took. At first,
we bore them bravely, sticking daisies in them, like
the ancient Samurai. 4 But either the Samurai were

4 Japanese knights of the feudal era Translator.

EARTH AND SOLDIERS 77

stronger than we, or else their armor was not as
heavy as our outfit, for the packs became a real tor-
ture before we had gone very far. There was gun-
powder in our knapsacks. With all the other things
we were carrying., it made a heavy load. The straps
soon began to bite into my shoulders. We drank
until our canteens were empty and everyone was
drenched with sweat.

So it went, over mile after mile of this sea of
mud, through rice fields, mulberry groves, past
scattered villages. Gradually, I became too weary
to talk. Some of our more vigorous men chattered
unceasingly among themselves and occasionally ad-
dressed a remark to me. This annoyed me, for I did
not want to talk. We halted regularly, flopping to
the earth in mud or water, wherever we happened
to be when the order was given.

Once, we halted on the bank of one of those
many small, sluggish creeks that thread this coun-
try. The water was muddy. Ordinarily, we would
not have drunk it without putting into it one of
the antiseptic tablets. But now I was too weary to
take the drag from my pack. I just rolled over and
dipped my hot face in the water and drank. I had
been sick, once before, and evacuated blood. But
not even the fear of this could overcome my weari-
ness now.

78 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

The day wore along. Before many more hours,
we decided to throw away everything in our packs
except the two essentialsthe gunpowder and the
bullets. We abandoned them in a field, which was
soon marked with a regular mound of rice, biscuits,
canned food, old shirts, and so on. It began to grow
dark. Far ahead of us, as scouts, we could see some
of our own men. Occasionally, a bullet whizzed out
of nowhere, fired by an unseen enemy at men who
were too tired even to notice it.

Then it began to rain; a fine, light drizzle which
made the bad road worse. Here and there, we
passed native huts, wrapped in flames. After an
eternity of shambling through muck and sludge, we
entered a small village and the day's march was
ended.

Men from other squads and companies were
already crowding into the abandoned houses. We
entered one assigned to us. After posting a sentry,
we dropped, exhausted, on the floor. It was pitch-
dark, no fires being permitted. But after a few
moments, I switched on my pocket flash and ran
it over the room in which we were lying. The only
thing of note were the slogans on the walls, written
in white chalk, "Down with Japanese Imperialism/'
"Good Men For Soldiers," "To Bear Arms Is An
Honor/' "Drive Out The Japanese," and so on.

EARTH AND SOLDIERS 79

Fatigue soon gave way to hunger. The private,
Kai, went out into the street and soon came back
with the news that there was a Chinese woman,
near by, who kept a shop filled with food and sweet
meats. He described canned strawberries, apricots,
and said he had seen candies and tobacco. "And
she doesn't want any money/' he said. I went out
with him, but he was unable to find his way back
to the shop in the darkness. After a few moments
of fruitless wandering, we returned to our house.

However, we did find a bottle of perfume called
"Flower Dew". A moment later, no two other
soldiers in all of China smelled as sweetly as we
did. Of course, our appearance was hardly of the
best, what with the mud and sweat and rain that
stained our uniforms. But our aroma could not be
questioned.

But in the house, the men were beginning to re-
cover from weariness. One, Hayase, had gone pok-
ing upstairs for what he soberly called "some domi-
ciliary research". He called down, in a moment,
saying he had found a large and well-equipped
kitchen, stocked with rice and water. "That means
a hot breakfast tomorrow," he laughed.

80 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

November 7 7 1937.

It was still dark when we fell into line and started
the day's march. The rain was falling more heavily.
Worst of all, Hayase's dream of a hot breakfast,
to which we all subscribed, did not come true.
Through some dislocation of arrangements, we did
not have time to eat. We munched cold rice as we
marched. During the first hour, our detachment
lost its way in the dark and we had to retrace our
steps. When you have so far to walk, and this with
blisters on your feet, every added step is a minor
tragedy. So I leave our feelings to your imagination.
Again my shoulders ached from the pack straps
and a chill wind began blowing the rain through
my uniform to the clammy flesh beneath.

As the hours passed, man after man began to
fall out of line. This is no great disgrace and under
these conditions it was not as dangerous as it might
have been. Sometimes, it is certain death for strag-
glers, but apparently this area through which we
were marching had been almost entirely cleared of
Chinese. I myself began to feel weak and dizzy as
the unbelievable task of walking continued to pre-
sent itself. I swallowed my lunch long before noon
to ward off the faintness I felt.

It was a bad day for the infantry, but even worse
for the wagon corps. Time after time, we met these

EARTH AND SOLDIERS 81

units, wagons, horses, and even men wallowing in
the mud. The road had been cut to pieces by the
heavy wheels and the churning of many feet. At
best, it was probably never very good and now, after
several days of rain and heavy traffic, it was a morass.

Many of the horses fell and did not rise again;
exhausted, I suppose, from overstrain. Some seemed
to stare at us in mute supplication. I could not help
but think of Kichizo, the horse I told you about in
one of my letters. I hated to think that he might
have met the same fate.

Gradually, it became impossible to maintain the
schedule that had been set for usso many minutes
of marching and then an interval of rest. We began
taking rest periods more and more frequently. Two
other corporals in our section fell out and, so
strange are the ways of men, this was an encourage-
ment to me. Ordinarily, they are much stronger than
I. Hence, the sight of their failure was a stimulus
to me. I plodded onward like a robot. I saw nothing
of the scenery around me. My eyes were riveted on
the ground in front of me, a narrow circle of vision
into which my feet left . . . right . . . left . . . right-
continually intruded. My mind seemed to float
somewhere outside, divorced entirely from my body.

When it seemed impossible to go any further,
the noon rest period two whole hours! finally

82 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

came. We entered a native hut, built a fire and
slumped numbly to the earthen floor. Just to lie
there, inert, not a muscle moving was an ecstasy I
cannot put into words. I felt a faint glow of satis-
faction in the knowledge that not one of the men
in my squad had fallen out. Some of them actually
seemed to have retained a degree of strength and
freshness, for they were soon on their feet again,
searching for the inevitable chicken for lunch. And,
inevitably, they found it, a tough, stringy old hen
that tasted like the rarest squab to us. Food,
warmth, and rest gradually brought the strength
coursing through our veins again. We were ac-
tually cheerful when the detachment commander,
Arakawa, approached and said, encouragingly, "It's
a terrible march but it will be worth it. We're join-
ing a surprise attack at a point where the Chinese
will never expect us. Stick it out a while longer/'

The afternoon was a repetition of the morning,
only worse, because weariness overtook us more
quickly. The road disappeared entirely in this sea
of mud and we branched off into pathless fields,
following a line of telegraph poles that we knew
would lead us to the village where we were to
camp that night. It was no great tragedy, losing
the road, for the fields could hardly be less passable
than the road. The darkness came very early; first

EARTH AND SOLDIERS 83

it was a misty gray and then complete black. We
began to fall more frequently, a result both of
muscle weariness and our inability to see clearly.
Sometimes, scrambling up the bank of some small
creek, we were on all fours, like animals. Personally,
when I felt a slope, indicating a creek or ditch to
cross, I simply sat down and slid until I stopped.
It saved many steps, but it plastered several pounds
of mud on me that I could ill-afford to carry. Once ?
during one of these short joy rides, my gun caught
in the mud and the stock struck me a violent blow
in the neck.

I cautioned the men to stay close together, for
in the darkness and the tortuous terrain, it would
have been easy for someone to get lost. Again, the
squad came through intact.

It was eleven o'clock at night before we came to
Ting-lin-chen, the village for which we had set out
in the morning. The usual scene was duplicated
a few moments prone upon the ground, in mud, in
puddles, wherever a man happened to be when the
fall-out order was given . . . then a search for a
house, a fire, and so on. The men broke up chairs
and furniture in the house we entered for fuel. In
the leaping flames, we saw each other and there were
roars of violent laughter. The mud had smeared
us, uniforms, hands, faces, helmets, with so similar

84 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

a color and texture that we looked like big clay
dolls. Except for our eyes, we resembled nothing
human. We took bayonets and actually scraped
the earth of China from us in huge slabs.

"Our squad leader slipped and fell all day long/'
somebody said.

"I saw you go down five times while I was falling
once/ 7 another added. "Just think, if I fell twice
you fell ten times, and then three times for me and
fifteen times for you ? and so on. Let's practice our
arithmetic. What was the total for you if it was
thirty-nine times for me?"

"I've heard/' said another, "that in some squads,
the squad leader and every man jack of them fell
out of line today/'

"Not in ours, though," said the first.

"We have by far the best record/' was the reply,
"that's so, isn't it, Commander?" looking at me.
I could only nod and smile.

This time, we apparently had taken quarters in
the former home of a lawyer or some sort of student.
There were great piles of law books on the tables
in one room. The former occupant's stationery bore
the legend, "National Anti-Japanese Headquarters,"
and the picture of Dr. Sun Yat-sen. Beside it, in
smaller characters, were the words, "The Revolu-
tion is not yet complete. Fight on!"

EARTH AND SOLDIERS 85

We had a hot dinner. Only Naito, the machine
gunner, was unable to eat. His was the hardest task
In our squad, for he had to carry his gun and it
was much heavier than our rifles.

We went to sleep with the wind moaning dis-
mally through the glassless windows. The men took
turns at sentry duty. In the distance, we could hear
the muffled thunder of heavy guns.

November 8, 1937.

On this day, I succumbed to the fate that I had
so long fought against. I was forced to drop out of
line. There was no unusual reason for It. I merely
was unable to keep going. My feet were raw, a mass
of broken blisters. My Injured neck hurt. It seemed
to me that there was a great stone pressing against
my chest. It was purely a matter of cumulative
fatigue. A part of the weariness of each preceding
day remains when the new day's march begins.
Finally, one is as tired as though he had never slept
at all. Thus it was with me. Sakagami stayed behind
with me. Contrary to what I had Imagined, I did
not feel disgraced as the column passed me by. I
felt nothing but an overwhelming desire to rest.

Ahead of me, on the road, a battery of light ar-
tillery was waging a terrible battle with the glu-

86 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

tinous mud. The wheels of the gun carriages were
deep in it. Then the horses would slip, stagger and
fall. The men would grasp the wheel spokes and
heave, with the result that their own legs would
disappear, up to the knees. Finally, with a tremen-
dous effort, the carriage would lurch ahead a few
feet, but seldom very far. This heartbreaking action
was repeated over and over again. It again seemed
to me that the mud had become a living thing. I
had the queer sensation that it was biting the legs
of men and horses, and reaching upward with short
sturdy arms to clutch the carriage wheels. Finally,
the artillerymen disassembled the guns and began
to carry or drag them, piece by piece, to firmer
ground. One of them told us that the unit had lost
great numbers of horses, in this manner, on the
preceding day.

I sat and watched the procession flowing past me.
Artillery and infantry and then more artillery. It
was a magnificent sight. Even though they were
caked with mud, almost unrecognizable beneath
the sticky yellow mantle, they looked glorious to
me. I knew that each was undergoing torture, just
as I had been. Their feet, like mine, were a raw and
bloody mass. Their shoulders ached and each breath
was an effort. Yet they went on, group after group,
grimly and without complaint. Indeed, I thought,

EARTH AND SOLDIERS 87

this impulse to be a part of a great mass movement
is a noble thing. Individual hardship is submerged
in a spirit of sacrifice for the whole. Thinking thus,
I regained my own strength and rejoined the
column.

A little while later, Sakagami and I stopped again
to eat our lunches. Suddenly, a Chinese boy ran up
to us, carrying a teapot in one hand and two cups
in the other. He scampered up to us, like a muddy
little rabbit, and thrust the cups and teapot into
our laps. I took some money from my pocket and
held it out to him, but he shook his head, "Pu-yao,
pu-yao," ("I don't want it.") Twice, he came back
to us, took the teapot and refilled it with hot water,
each time refusing our money. It was not the first
time Chinese country people have been kind to us.

By this time, the sun had emerged from behind
greasy gray clouds. It grew warmer and gradually
the walking became easier. Life, in every way,
seemed much brighter than it had been two hours
before. And now I began to be impatient to rejoin
my company. Sakagami and I quickened our pace,
and began passing the slow-moving column, trying
to make up for lost time.

Finally, a soldier who saw our numbers, said,
"Whaf s your hurry? Your outfit is back there a
way?" He motioned behind him. We kept right on.

88 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

"That's very strange/' I remarked.

"He most be mistaken/' said Sakagami. "How
could we have gone ahead of them, without seeing
them?"

Nevertheless, we asked several other men and re-
ceived the same answer. I decided that something
must have delayed the company, but, although I
was anxious to rejoin them, I did not feel like walk-
ing back and then having to retrace my steps. I
still felt weak and was afraid I might again have to
fall out of line.

In a few moments, thanks to Sakagami's sharp
eyes, fortune again smiled on us. He suddenly
handed me his gun and sprinted across the field,
behind a clump of trees, and came out leading a
young ox. He was grinning from ear to ear.

"We're going to travel in style/' he said. "Here's
a porter to carry our luggage."

So saying, he took my pack and his own and
slung them over the ox's back. It kicked and bucked
around, but we held it. "Here is a piece of booty
no less valuable," Sakagami then said. And he held
up a chicken. It would be interesting to know the
distance that the Japanese army was able to travel,
thanks to Chinese chickens.

We had hardly started before we heard the
reason for the delay in our unit A soldier told us

EARTH AND SOLDIERS 89

one of the men had been hit by a bullet from some
sniper, concealed at the side of the road.

"Who was it?"

"I don't know/' he said, "somebody in your
squad, I understand/'

Immediately, Sakagami and I turned around and
began hurrying toward the rear. Both of us were
consumed with impatience to know the details of
the situation. At last, we met Sublieutenant Yama-
zaki. Behind him I saw the faces of some of my
men.

"What happened?" I asked.

The officer told me that Takahashi had been
wounded in the thigh, but not seriously. The bullet
passed right through him, he said.

"We were eating lunch when it happened/ 7
Yamazaki said. "All of a sudden, we heard a shot,
off to the right of us, and a bullet whanged very
close. Takahashi, himself, said, *Is anybody hurt?'
He must have been stunned, momentarily. Then
he fell over." The sublieutenant added, grimly,
"We found the Chinese who did it."

He said that Naito, the machine gunner, had also
been put on the sick list, collapsing shortly before
noon. An ambulance corps was caring for them, he
said.

As we moved on, the private, Kai, told me more.

90 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

"Naito has something the matter with his stomach.
He couldn't keep up any longer. We were all wor-
ried about you, too. When you left us, this morn-
ing, you must have taken our good luck with you."

We walked on for about a mile and came to a
village where, I was told, the medical corps would
make its headquarters for the night. The main body
was going ahead to the larger city of Chin-shan.
Since we had two casualties, I was ordered to stay
here and see to it that Naito and Takahashi were
safely brought in.

I dropped my pack and started back down the
line with Sakagami. We saw a good many Chinese
lining the road, each with a Japanese flag in his
hand. Not all of them had the look of farmers. I
suppose many were ex-soldiers who had thrown
away their uniforms, and some probably were plain-
clothes men and spies. Nevertheless, I went up to
one group and wTote, in Chinese characters, "We
want to hire four men as stretcher-bearers." Neither
Sakagami nor I could speak Chinese, but the na-
tives seemed to be able to read what we had written
and four of them signified their willingness to fol-
low us. Sakagami glanced at me, as we prepared to
start

"You're not looking well, again/ 7 he said. "You
stay here and I'll soon be along with the others."

EARTH AND SOLDIERS 91

He was right. My weakness had again overcome
me ar f l I could not have continued much further.
So I . sat down on the bank of a stream and gazed
idly at the sky. It was nearly two hours later when
I saw, coming up the road, the four Chinese carry-
ing two stretchers. I rose to my feet and went to-
ward them. One of the men bent over a stretcher
and said, "Here comes your squad commander,
Takahashi."

Takahashi raised his head and looked toward me.
He grinned, in a way, and said, "Mr. Commander,
I'm terribly, terribly sorry."

"That's all right/ 7 I said. "It ? s not your fault."

His eyes filled with tears and he hauled the
blanket over his head, mumbling, "Fin sorry I've
been wounded/ 7

I then went over to where Naito was lying and
asked him how he felt, but he did not answer. He
appeared to have fallen into a deep sleep. His face
was pale and pinched, so that I hardly would have
recognized him.

When we came to the village where the medical
corps had stationed itself, Takahashi was feeling
better. He seemed positively pleased with himself.
"I heard something whizz near me," he said, "and
I looked around to see if anyone had been hit.
Then I felt a pain in my leg and realized that it

92 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

was I who was wounded. I fell over. It's absolutely
ridiculous! Disgusting little accident!" And he be-
gan to laugh. Then, in a more serious voice, he
began to plead not to be left behind. "In ten days
or so, I ought to be all right. Youll see what you
can do about it, won't you?" I gripped his hand
and nodded.

Dusk was approaching before the whole ambu-
lance unit came up. I wanted to see that Naito and
Takahashi were safely hospitalized before starting
toward Chin-shan. The sun was down and night
was beginning to fall before this was accomplished.
I had not realized how many casualties we had
suffered. The ambulances were filled with wounded
men and those who had fallen ill. A driver told me
that Chinese stragglers harried them all the way
from the rear. As soon as the main force had passed,
snipers and sharpshooters, concealed in ambush,
would open fire on any small groups of the army.

"When they saw ambulances, they came right
out in the open," he said. "They knew there was
nothing much to fear from us. So they let us have
it. That happened several times today. This region
is full of them."

"Then there may be a night attack," I said.

"Maybe so," he said. "They know we're not
very strong. It's more likely, though, that they'll

EARTH AND SOLDIERS 93

just wait alongside of the road for us again to-
morrow/'

"I'm taking my squad on through to Chin-shan
tonight/ 7 I said.

He shook his head, "Well, good luck/ 7

I soon discovered that he was not exaggerating
the danger. When darkness finally was complete,
some of the men built fires, intending to prepare
food. Instantly, an officer ran out of one of the huts
yelling,

"Douse those fires. You'll have every guerrilla in
a hundred miles taking pot shots at us. The forest
is thick with them/'

So out went the fires and we were swallowed up
in blackness. Overhead, the blue-black sky glittered
with stars and there was a thin crescent moon off
to our left.

Meanwhile, a nurse told me the field hospital
was ready and I hurried over to get places for my
two casualties. The dressing station was set up in
a fairly large house. They had covered the floor with
straw and spread blankets on top of it. Fifty or more
men were already there, lying close together. The
air was already heavy with the peculiar smell of
blood and a strong tang of antiseptic. Everywhere,
I saw the thick red blood oozing through snow-
white bandages. The wounded bore it all very

94 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

patiently. Pain and determination mingled touch-
ingly in their faces. I saw to it that Naito and Taka-
hashi were safely placed and then, bidding them a
brief farewell, I homed outside into the fresh,
clean air.

The rest of the squad was waiting and we set
out at once in the direction of Chin-shan. We were
hardly past the outskirts of the village when a voice
sounded in the darkness, ''Hey, get down, you
fellows. There are snipers just across the way." We
went over in the direction of the speaker and found
a detachment digging a shallow trench beside the
road. They were the covering force for the medical
corps. A big man with a long black moustache was
in command.

"We're heading for Chin-shan," I told him.

"I wouldn't if I were you," he said. "YouVe got
about ten miles of walking, mostly through wooded
country. It's infested with guerrillas."

I explained that we had fallen behind, due to the
two casualties, and said we were anxious to get back
with our own outfit.

"If that's the case, why don't you wait for some
other unit and go up with them," he suggested. "I
understand there's a company due through pretty
soon."

"I suppose that's best," I said. So we sat down

EARTH AND SOLDIERS 93

to wait. After an hour or more, a signal corps came
up, with a detachment of infantry. I explained our
position to the commander and asked him to let us
go with them.

"Glad to have you/ 7 he said. "We can use some
extra protection in the rear. Follow along/"

They started off, at a snail's pace. Such caution
seemed unnecessary, for there was not a sound in
the night air around us. Not a bush stirred. This
officer was a stickler for rules. He even had scouts
ahead of the main force, with whom he was in con-
stant touch. We were protecting the rear. From
time to time, a runner would come back to ask us
if we noticed anything and then disappear, to re-
port, I suppose, to the commander.

All in all, it was the most pleasant march we
had had. The night was cool and fresh. The road
was fairly good and the pace was slow. We passed
innumerable creeks and streams, which seemed in-
laid with diamonds as they reflected the stars.

Then, without warning, the semidarkness was
rent by a blazing red light that appeared above the
treetops at some distance to our right. Instantly,
the whole party halted and took shelter, expecting
attack. But there was not a sound. We waited and
waited. Still nothing. So we resumed our careful
advance. We went about a thousand yards further

96 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

and suddenly the light blazed again, vivid and
bloody red. It was a rocket or some kind of flare.
As we marched, the lights inarched with us. Their
pace was set against our own. It gave us an eerie
sensation to realize that the enemy, silent and in-
visible, was moving beside os through the woods,
stealthy, dangerous, waiting but for what? Instead
of making me feel safer, the infinitely slow pace
finally began to get on my nerves. It seemed to me
that the sooner we reached Chin-shan, the better.
The Chinese knew where we were. If they were
going to attack, they would have done so by this
time. So the best thing was to hurry onward.

At last, as we topped a rise in the road, we could
see, far ahead, a number of fires blazing. I went up
to the commander.

"I think that's Chin-shan/' he said. "The country
here seems to check with what shows on the map/*
We looked at it together. It pictured the road run-
ning straight, with creeks on either side, and heavy
woods all around. No other village was marked as
lying between the one we had left and Chin-shan.
I asked how far he thought it was, yet, to Chin-shan.

"Hard to say/' he said. "You can see those fires a
long way at night/'

"Unless you need us/' I said, "I think we'll go
on ahead. We've been absent from our outfit all

EARTH AND SOLDIERS 97

day and the men are anxious to get some sleep/'
He agreed. I thanked him and ordered my squad
to the van.

We ixed our bayonets and fell into single file,
with plenty of space between each man. I marched
first. We stepped up our pace to normal marching
speed and soon outstripped the slow-moving group.
In a short while, we passed their scouts. The
strange, flashing lights continued to explode, from
time to time, on our right The darkness seemed
darker and the silence more ominous. I half ques-
tioned my own wisdom in having gone on ahead,
but we continued. The road was straight and above
the trees we could see a faint glow from the fires of
what we supposed was Chin-shan. It was very
heartening.

An hour passed. Our bayonets gleamed coldly in
the steely light of the moon and stars. I felt the
muscles in my hands aching and suddenly realized
that I had been squeezing my rifle with a terrible
grip. No one spoke. There was only the sound of
our heavy shoes, scraping and scuffling, and the
half-audible voices of the forest around us. More
time passed and the thought flashed through my
head that perhaps, somewhere, the road had
branched and we had missed Chin-shan. I under-
stood it to be a city of some size, so that it would

98 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

be impossible to miss. Yet, I thought, it must be
equally impossible that I could have lost my way.
I peered ahead, straining to pierce the blackness of
night and forest, but could not even see the glow
of the fires that had lured us on.

Suddenly, my shoes struck wood, and there was
a hollow sound underneath. Obviously, I was on
some kind of bridge or culvert. I halted and looked
around me. It was a bridge, but there was no mere
creek underneath. Instead, what appeared to be a
fairly large stream was running. Up ahead, I could
just make out the blacker smudge of houses in the
blackness. It was a village, but silent and deserted.
At any rate, it was shelter and I supposed some of
our men would be quartered here and able to tell
me where we were. I broke into a half-run.

My next sensation was of a wire clutching against
my knees. Instantly, there was a rattling and clang-
ing like a blacksmith's forge. A voice cried, "Who
goes there?" I instantly replied, "Friends." A sentry,
with fixed bayonet, came up cautiously. My own
men, by this time, had come up. We saw a machine
gun's ugly little snout pointing directly at us and a
number of other sentries manning it. They were
our own troops.

"What in hell did I run into?" I asked. They all

EARTH AND SOLDIERS 99

laughed, and showed me the homemade burglar
alarm they had rigged. A wire was stretched across
the bridge and attached, on either side, to a cluster
of tin cans and oil drains, delicately balanced. If
anything touched the wire, it sent the cans tumbling
and made noise enough to wake up the countryside
for a mile around.

"It's a neat trick/' I said, "but It makes you feel
pretty foolish." I asked these men If this was not
Chin-shan and received the discouraging Informa-
tion that the city was still some distance ahead. The
sentries advised us against going on, but having
come this far, we were determined. So we passed
through this village and again were In the midst of
the forest.

Now came real difficulty. The road, which had
been broad and well-marked, narrowed to little
more than a wagon path, and twisted and turned
through the trees. I realized, after a while, that
there was a very real danger of losing the way and
being caught, out there, by guerrillas. So, despite
my bitter disappointment, I determined to turn
back.

It was just midnight when we re-entered the vil-
lage. I found the headquarters of the Fujiyama unit
and began banging on the door. A gruff voice

100 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

bawled out, hoarsely, "Well, what is it?" I explained
to this officer what had happened and he came to
the door, rubbing his eyes.

"You're lucky to be alive, at all/' he said. "The
area between here and Chin-shan is lousy with
guerrillas. Every outfit that went in had to fight its
way through and some of them had a pretty hot
time of it. I wonder they didn't catch you/'

"Then, there's no chance of us getting into Chin-
shan tonight?" I asked.

"Not a chance in the world for anything less than
a full company," he replied. "You bed down here
and catch up with your unit in the morning." He
turned and called an orderly and gave instructions
where to put us. "Have you had anything to eat?"
he asked.

I said we had not, so he told the orderly to bring
in rice and canned food. "You won't find that your
quarters are exactly a hotel," he said, "but I sup-
pose you won't mind."

Tired, as 1 was, I could not refrain from smiling
as he spoke. He was so typical of our officers, gruff
but kind. He told us his unit was moving out at
five o'clock and to be ready then. With a brief
"Good night," he closed the door.

It was a shabby, dirty room, with straw on the
floor. The men lit a fire beneath a kettle the orderly

EARTH AND SOLDIERS 101

brought In and we had a midnight supper of rice,
cooked in reddish-colored water, and canned food.
Then, we lay down and, almost at once, we were
asleep.

November 9, 1937.

I awoke at dawn, stiff and sore, and with the usual
complement of blisters on my feet. But, in spite of
them, I felt stronger than I had been in a long
time. I went outside, to the place where the troop
was forming and, to my extreme surprise, found our
own company among them. It had camped in the
village the night before and had never reached
Chin-shan. The march started.

When I saw, in full daylight, the forest and the
twisting path that we had tried to follow the night
before, I murmured fervent thanks to whatever im-
pelled me to turn back. There were a thousand
places, at every step, where we might have lost the
way. And now we could see what had been invisible
to us the night before piles of enemy corpses. Ob-
viously, every inch of the way ? here, had been con-
tested. Bodies were on the ground and in the swamp
and slumped, in lifelike postures, beside the trees.
It was a ghastly scene and better met in daylight
than in the dark.

102 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

Now, the weather had changed from raw cold to
oppressive heat. The sun, for which we had longed
on preceding days, was too much in evidence. Per-
spiration rolled down my shirt in streams and, as
usual, my canteen was soon empty. Within an
hour, we were in and beyond Chin-shan. Many
more Chinese bodies were strewn around, here.

The morning wore along. The pains of march-
ing increased. I set my teeth and tried to concentrate
all my energy to the task of continuing. I deter-
mined not to drop out of line a second time. My
strength was ebbing and then a fortunate thing oc-
curred. It will seem strange to hear it described as
"fortunate". Fighting started up ahead.

There was a roll of rifle fire across the fields and
through the woods. Apparently, the vanguard had
collided with an enemy of considerable size. The
column of march stopped and we all deployed on
the sides of the road. It was a double relief. There
was no more marching, for the time being, and,
besides, the appearance of actual fighting instantly
expelled, from my mind, all thoughts of my own
misery. In a twinkling, I forgot it completely.

From what I could hear, our center seemed to
have come under very heavy fire. I caught the stac-
cato bark of the machine guns now, between the
steady crackle of the rifles. The air was filled with

EARTH AND SOLDIERS 103

the smell of exploding guns. Then the order came
down, "Artillery, forward!' 7 It was passed rapidly
down the line, toward the rear. A few moments
later, a heavy fieldpiece was wheeled into line,
shrouded with dust kicked up by the horses that
drew it. Quickly, with deft, sure movements, the
batteryinen brought the gun into action. A deafen-
ing roar split the air around us and, in a few seconds,
there was an answering roar up ahead, as the shell
burst. It fired steadily.

Meanwhile, three of our airplanes appeared over-
head and we were treated to the usual spectacle
that always excites the envy and admiration of an
infantryman. The planes wheeled in slow, lazy
circles above us. Apparently spotting a target, they
suddenly released their bomb racks and some dark
objects hurtled toward the earth. They looked to
me like beer bottles. Again, the ground trembled
with a series of thunderous explosions, and a foun-
tain of earth and smoke rose leisurely toward the
sky.

Then the command came down, "Medical corps,
forward/' Someone said the company commander
had been hit. Stretcher-bearers rushed ahead, reck-
lessly. Returning, they told us that the enemy was
resisting fiercely and that a number of our men had
been hit.

104 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

At noontime, we ate lunch, crouching behind the
trees, or behind the banks of a creek, chatting and
smoking as carelessly as though the nearest bullet
were miles away. 1 actually dozed for a while after
lunch, undisturbed by the thunders of the fighting
around me. It seemed good just to lie there in the
sun, looking upward at a white cloud floating
through the sky. Even the whine of the bullets
seemed vaguely friendly. I glanced around me and
saw men asleep, everywhere, like fish drying on the
beach at home. Yet, there was a sizeable battle
being fought, just up ahead.

Gradually, the Chinese began to withdraw and
the sound of fighting grew more distant. They
fought hard and with some success for a while, and
then, for no apparent reason, started a retreat. They
frequently do this, so I hear, but no one knows why.
We entered the village where I am writing this in
the late afternoon. I had nothing else to do, so I
spent the time polishing my bayonet and oiling my
rifle. Bullets are still flying, but the battle, like a
tropical storm, has rolled away as swiftly as it ap-
peared.

I am told our van fought a group of about 1,000
Chinese, who had taken a strong position, squarely
across our path. Behind them was another force
that did not take part in the action. The former

EARTH AND SOLDIERS 105

detachment of Chinese had two fieldpieces and
several large machine guns. The story is that they
would have retreated earlier, except for the troops
back of them who were detailed to watch them
and shoot down their own men, if a retreat started.
Hence, the first line of Chinese held out until the
shadows of late afternoon began to lengthen. Then,
as soon as the "guards" behind could no longer see
them clearly, they slipped away, scurrying through
the forest, around the flanks of the other group.
They left several hundred dead and wounded be-
hind them. It is a strange war. For the Chinese, it
must be difficult to tell friend from enemy.

So this is the diary of my last three days. The
positions ahead, according to report, are strongly
fortified. We have been warned to expect a series
of heavy engagements. I am going to close now
and, with the lullaby of bullets, go to sleep.

November 15, 1937
At Kiashan, Cliina.

Dear Brother:

By the grace of good luck, I am still alive after
a number of very bad days in the field. Death has
been a constant companion since I last wrote you.
Perhaps because of this, we are all very excited to-

106 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

night about something that must seem to you to
be very simple and childish. What is it? We are
going to have a hot bath!

The men are acting like kids. Well, to us, it is a
thrill, a very great one. It shows you to what a
minimum our pleasures have been reduced. It
came about in this way One of the men found a
huge jar out in the field, full of old beans. We dug
a hole outside one of the houses, fitted the jar into
it and now we have a splendid outdoor bath. The
joy of living, now, is contained merely in being alive.
We find a keen, almost painful joy in the appre-
ciation of things that formerly had little meaning,
the animal pleasures of cooking and eating, bathing,
washing our clothes, the feel of the sun, the sweet,
fresh air. These are luxuries.

And now, here is the diary of the past few days:

November 10, 1937.

The march began early, on a winding path
through the fields. My company was attached to a
unit that proceeded to the left of the main force,
protecting the flanks. The country was much the
same as I have described before, the same rice pad-
dies, crisscrossed with creeks and streams, and
dotted with mulberry trees and clumps of bamboo.
It was not an easy march, but at least we were not

EARTH AND SOLDIERS 107

plagued by the mud that proved such a great trial
to us, before.

The high spot of the day was the discovery of an
orange tree, heavy with fruit. For a few moments,
it caused complete confusion in our ranks, as the
men broke out of line and began trying to bring
down the fruit with bamboo poles. Then, Hayase,
of my squad, suddenly shinnied up the tree like a
monkey. Instantly, men from other squads followed
suit and a regular competition began. None of us
got very many oranges, but even a few pieces
seemed delicious. It seemed to me that I had never
tasted anything quite so good. All our senses have
been sharpened amazingly.

Towards evening, we caught sight of the Shang-
hai-Hangcho\v-Ningpo railway, a straight line pierc-
ing the slanting creeks. It made a nice geometrical
pattern. We advanced along the railroad, heading
westward. Both sides were blazing with flowers,
crimson and white cosmos, and wild daisies.

Then, for no reason that we knew, the order came
for us to halt and take cover. It was supremely quiet.
We slipped down the slope of a ditch and leaned
against the side. The sun had set and the sky was
becoming cloudy. It was growing cold. Yet, some
of the men instantly fell asleep. The others were
shivering from the chill.

108 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

Corporal Uehara, one of the squad leaders, kept
up an Incessant fire of chatter all the time. "You
know/ 7 he said, "we were a part of some very un-
usual strategy during these last few days. The land-
ing at Hangchow Bay brought a quick and advan-
tageous development in the Shanghai battle. We
appeared in their rear, thus threatening to trap
them. They have been forced to retreat. I under-
stand Chiang Kai-shek has withdrawn to Kiashan,
for a final stand. The battle, there, is going to be
a decisive one. If Kiashan falls into our hands, the
Chinese Government will surrender at once/'

"Why, you're a regular staff officer/* I said,
jokingly.

He smiled, bashfully, and whispered, "Fm just
talking like this to keep my squad from going to
sleep. I don ? t want them to catch cold."

Before we could say more, we were ordered to
withdraw along the same road we had just come.
The reason was that our vanguard had discovered
the railroad to be heavily defended by pillboxes. Up
ahead, they were clustered across the path of our
advance. There was no necessity to attack them
from the front, which would have been a very costly
operation. We were returning to come upon them
from the sides and rear. We marched a long time,
growing colder and weaker with every step.

EARTH AND SOLDIERS 109

Once, during a halt, we heard the sound of heavy
guns far In the distance. Then a trumpet called,
with a queer, mournful voice. There was another
burst of gunfire and then more bugling. In the
darkness, someone said, "That sounds like the sig-
nal for a truce/'

"It may be so," said another voice.

"Listen/' interrupted a third, "there is no more
firing. Perhaps it's all over/'

A moment later, the rattle of machine guns ended
all this hopeful speculation.

We moved along for another thousand yards or
so and eventually found ourselves in a hollow be-
side the road. Presently, the order came along to
spend the rest of the night here. It was bitterly cold.
The ground was icy. We spread tent cloths and
lay down, huddling close together. I pulled my
overcoat over me and began chewing a piece of
dried fish. The moon was a shining mirror in the
clear autumn sky. The stars glittered like diamonds.
How peaceful it seemed. The spectacle of this
beauty drew my mind away from my feelings of
cold and hunger. A sentry patrolled, with light
footsteps, near my pillow, his bayonet glittering
coldly in the light of the moon. What am I
doing here? I thought. And thinking thus, I fell
asleep.

110 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

November II, 1937.

I was awakened by the bustle of men moving all
around me. It was still dark and still very cold. In
the dim light of dawn, the water in the creeks
looked gray. I did not have time to fold my over-
coat properly, but just tucked it in around my
knapsack. We marched for a short distance and
then halted in another hollow spot beside the
road.

As I have told you before, we seldom are aware
of the exact meaning of our movements, much less
our specific part in this maneuvering and fighting.
We get our orders and we follow them, but what
the reason is, we rarely know. On this day, the
march began at dawn, but took us only a short dis-
tance before we again halted, stopping for the rest
of the day. We were under fire, throughout the
day, from machine guns stationed in the pillboxes
dotting the country all around us. Bullets seemed
to be coming from every direction.

Some four hundred yards ahead of us, an en-
gineering corps was having an even more unpleasant
time, however. The Chinese had destroyed a bridge
and the engineers, working in a regular blizzard of
bullets, were trying to repair it. Of course, a Japanese
covering force was protecting them from actual at-

EARTH AND SOLDIERS 111

tack, but it could not protect them from the stream
of lead that poured incessantly into their ranks.
The engineers were marvelous. For logs to span the
gap in the bridge, they were chopping down tele-
phone poles, one by one, along the road. As soon
as a pole was ready, two men would take each end.
Then, they ran like madmen straight into the teeth
of that storm and tried to fit the lumber into place.
I saw two of them shot down almost at the instant
that they reached their goal. The work progressed
slowly, but they worked steadily, almost as though
they did not realize their danger.

Waiting, we grew fearfully hungry. Of course,
the commissary was far behind us, its heavy wagons
unquestionably mired in the almost impassable
roads I have told you about. Our advance had been
too rapid for them. We had not received a grain
of rice since the day we landed. We had been lucky
in our efforts to forage, however, and had found
not only rice but chickens and some pork and vege-
tables in and around the villages. But, in a spot
like the one we now found ourselves, there was no
chance for any of this.

This was not unexpected and we tried to reduce
the amount used to almost half the ordinary ration.
Finally, it was all consumed. I began to miss the

112 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

rice we had thrown away in the field, some days
before. At that time, it seemed that the weight
would crush us. Now, we would gladly have borne
it. Some of the men were fortunate in being able
to sleep while we waited.

The restless ones finally brought word that we
were starving in the midst of plenty. The field all
around us had been planted with sweet potatoes.
What a situation! Stay behind the shelter of the
banks, and Chinese bullets could not reach you.
But hunger could. There, so near and yet so dan-
gerously far, was food. All you needed was the
courage to jump out into the open. Death for a
potato was not our idea of the "honorable death" so
we contented ourselves with stretching our arms as
far as possible and eating only what we could reach.
There was a creek near by, and we brought water
from it and boiled the potatoes in our tin boxes.
Dipping a can into the water, I saw it was filled
with tiny, arrow-shaped killifish. Suddenly, a bullet
spattered in among them, "plunk", and they all
scattered, but reformed their ranks, immediately,
and swam around in regular military formation.

Watching these little creatures, I quite forgot
about the war. It was a peaceful little scene, far re-
moved from bullets and fighting. But reality came
back with brutal suddenness. Returning with the

EARTH AND SOLDIERS 113

water, I learned that another dispatch rider in our
section, Private Tanimura, had been Hied.

I had seen him a moment before, lolling in the
sun, chattering with one of the men, and chewing
some tough salt beans. The next instant, he raised
himself to carry a message to some other unit and
a bullet struck him. It was as though it had been
waiting there, just a few inches away. He fell
heavily and rolled down the slope. Another man
picked him up and ripped open the buttons of his
shirt. An army nurse quickly examined him and
found a gaping wound in his stomach. The blood
was gushing out in great crimson jets. The nurse
bandaged the wound with quick, expert fingers, and
then leaped to his feet and started back toward the
rear, saying, "This is serious. The bullet is inside
his belly. Fm going to get a surgeon. Don't give
him any water/*

Tanimura seemed to recover from shock and be-
gan to moan, "It's heavy, it's heavy, it's heavy in
my stomach/' With that he began to claw inside
his shirt and drew forth a packet, saying, "Here is
a letter and my picture. Please see that they get to
my home." Then he cried, twice, "Emperor,
Banzai!" and he grew silent, but his eyes were roll-
ing wildly. All of a sudden, his voice became sur-
prisingly calm and natural. "Please ask the company

114 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

commander to come here," he said, quietly. In an
instant, the officer was kneeling beside him, with
one of Tanimura's hands in his own.

"I'm very sorry," Tanimura whispered, weakly.

The commander gripped his hand and shook it.
"It's not serious. Don't worry."

The dying man smiled faintly, "Good luck to
every one. And keep on fighting." With these
words, he made a terrible effort to raise himself,
but he could not. The officer's face was working
with grief and there were tears in his eyes.

Presently, stretcher-bearers arrived. They lifted
Tanimura from the ground and started toward the
rear at a rapid pace. Bullets bit at the ground all
around them. About an hour later, they returned.
They said Tanimura died in the ambulance.

As the day drew to a close, the Chinese fire grew
so heavy that we dared not raise our heads above
the lip of the embankment. Once, one of our air-
planes bombed them. We have been expecting air
raids from them, but, strangely enough, there have
been none. Towards dusk, their raking fire slackened
a little.

Meanwhile, I saw a group of prisoners, about
fifteen, carrying their guns upside down. One of
our officers was leading them. Someone said that

EARTH AND SOLDIERS 115

Sublieutenant Mamyama's squad had taken a pill-
box, and these men were their prisoners. One
Japanese was killed in the attack. The prisoners
were slim and delicate-looking, I was struck by their
appearance of extreme youth.

Darkness finally came and still the engineers had
been unable to repair the bridge. A Chinese pill-
box, just across the river, commanded the point
completely and we heard that we were losing a
good many men there. Unable to advance, we
settled down for the night.

But hardly had the night draped its dark mantle
over the countryside and the thin half-moon begun
to shine, than orders came for us to move. We re-
tired to a village in the rear, joining another com-
pany. All the houses were already filled with men
from another unit, but we managed to pack our-
selves under the eaves between the houses. We
found piles of dry straw, some with the rice ears
still clinging to them, and these made wonderful
beds. We stretched ourselves on the soft straw and
pulled more of it on top of us. "What could be
better?" someone murmured. There were sighs of
deep contentment all around me as the men
stretched out in this comfortable billet.

Of course, it was too good to be true. Hardly

116 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

three minutes elapsed before we were ordered out
again. What luck! We paid for our three minutes
of luxury by the accentuated chill of the night.

Then began a slow, cautious movement. The
moon was dim, but still it lit the countryside
enough to expose us to enemy eyes. So we marched
while a cloud lay across its face and halted, pressing
flat against the ground, when the light grew brighter
again. We were not sure of our position, but it was
obvious that we were going up toward the front and
that we were in open ground, fully exposed to the
Chinese fire. It was not long before they spotted
us and let go with their rifles and machine guns.
Directly ahead of us, through the shadowy woods,
their guns chattered. We could see the innumerable
red dots, sparkling angrily.

The assignment was to occupy a captured pill-
box, in which a unit commander was stationed. It
was the one that Maruyama's squad had taken dur-
ing the day. Because of our go-stop, go-stop ap-
proach, in the alternating shadow and light, the
advance was very slow. At last, we crossed a small
stone bridge and arrived at our objective. The pill-
box was round, a moundlike protuberance that
stood out prominently in this scene. A trench had
been dug in front of it. We settled there. This, not
the downy rice straw, was our abode for the night.

EARTH AND SOLDIERS 117

I looked out across the landscape. It seemed
supremely lonely. There was now no evidence of
the instant death that waited out there. The moon
bathed it all in a soft gray light. Behind us was the
creek. To the left, the road was a silver stream that
faded into the half-light in the near distance. I
scheduled our turns at sentry duty and sank back

into the trench. It was cold and unfriendlv there.

>

My eyes closed.

The next thing I knew, someone was shaking
my shoulder. It was Tonari, who had been on duty.
"There's something out there/ 7 he whispered,
"creeping toward us."

I jumped up and peered into the gray. He
pointed down the road and at first I could see
nothing.

"Those shadows/' he said. "There, that black-
ness. I am pointing right at it."

I saw the blackness and then I saw it move. As I
watched, the blur of darkness split into several parts.
"Chinese scouts/' I said. "Let them get a little
closer. Wake the others."

Even as I spoke, the deathly silence was ripped to
shreds by an explosion of machine-gun fire. Bullets
spattered all around us. Instinctively, we all
ducked. We could not tell from whence the shots
had come. Almost immediately, the firing ceased.

118 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

I cautiously poked my head over the top of the
trench and looked again toward the road. Now, to
my intense surprise, it was completely deserted, a
mere white line running out into the darkness. I
blinked, rubbed my eyes, and looked more closely.
There was nothing to be seen. The black shadows
had disappeared into thin air. An eerie, uneasy sen-
sation swept over me. The other men were looking,
too, but none saw anything. Was it men, or ghosts,
that we had seen? We doubted our own senses.

Then a faint sound, something like a flute, came
to us out of the unknown. It had a queer, plaintive
sound. Presently ? it grew louder and a mournful
cry mingled with it. A chill ran up my back and I
felt the hair on my neck grow stiff. The weird
music was coming from the road, from the very
spot where the shadows had been. I called out,

"Shirahashir

"Yes, sir," he said.

"Wait your chance, and then get down there and
find out what that is. Well cover you. Be careful
and stay low. Don't go any farther than is neces-
sary."

"Yes, sir."

A moment later, the scrap of a cloud blotted the
moon, and he hoisted himself over the top of the

EARTH AND SOLDIERS 119

trench and crept down toward the road. We leveled
our rifles, concentrating on the spot he was ap-
proaching. We saw him draw very near, then turn.
An instant later, he was back in the trench.

"Some natives are dying down there/' he said.

Then, it all seemed very simple. Some Chinese
refugees, caught in the swirl of fighting, had been
trying to make their way between the lines to safety
beyond. The Chinese had spotted them and prob-
ably mistaken them for Japanese. They were hit by
their own people.

"There's a man, there/' said Shirahashi. "He's
dead. Right near him is a woman, wounded. She
must have been holding a baby. Anyway, a baby is
lying in the road. Listen. You can hear it crying."

That was the faint, flutelike sound we had heard.
The woman was moaning.

The baby cried almost all night. Sometimes its
little voice grew loud and shrill, cutting the dark,
silent air like a knife. Then it would die away and
then begin anew.

It affected us very badly. Each succeeding wail
was like a saw, drawn across our taut nerves. Even
the insects seemed to join, to create a symphony
pathetique. The men murmured and finally began
firing their revolvers into the air ? to drown the

120 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

sound. The mournful cry, incessantly repeated, grad-
ually drove us all to the breaking point. At last, I
was unable to endure it any more.

With a sudden jerk, I hoisted myself out of the
trench and began wriggling across the ground to-
ward the road. I was hardly conscious of the danger.
The baby's cry was my guide. In a few moments, I
was on the road. I thought my heart would burst
when I saw what was there.

Beside the bodies were the pitiful things they had
tried to bring with them. A basketful of cooking
utensils littered the road. Near by, was a bundle of
quilt, held together with a cord.

The dying woman was some distance away. Her
arms were outstretched, trying to reach the baby,
that lay on the other side of the road. She was saying
something soft and comforting. Her body moved,
with painful heaviness, as she tried to reach it. A
feeling that I cannot describe clutched at the bot-
tom of my heart. I was only a few yards from this
little tragedy.

And then, suddenly, the Chinese opened fire
again. Their machine guns pumped bullets toward
us and the milky night air was filled with their ugly
whining. I dropped flat on the road. Whether they
saw me, or were simply spraying the ground, with-

EARTH AND SOLDIERS 121

out any specific target, I could not tell. Anyway, I
crept hurriedly back to the trench.

There were several more bursts of fire. It seemed
to me that one or perhaps several more bullets hit
the poor woman. The baby cried even louder. I
could not shut out the sound. Like a powerful mag-
net, I felt it pulling me down toward the road again.
I put my hands on top of the trench, preparing to
go over.

"It's too dangerous/' someone said. "There's
nothing we can do for them."

I heard the words, but they meant nothing to me.
Almost before I knew it, I was in the open ground
again, writhing like a snake toward the road. I
reached the road and went beyond the spot where I
had stopped before. The dying woman seemed not
to notice my approach. She herself had moved.
With some superhuman effort, she had hunched her
broken body across to where the child lay. She was
still alive, patting it with fluttering hands, caressing
it, and weakly murmuring some little lullaby.

I picked up the quilts and rolled them around the
baby's soft, warm body. Then I thrust the child into
her bosom and covered her with another quilt. By
that time, I suppose, she was dead. She grew silent.

I slunk back to the trench, but even in the silence

122 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

I seemed to hear the baby's cry and it was nearly
dawn before I fell asleep. So it was with all the men.

November 12, 1937.

That long sad night finally came to an end. In
the eastern sky, there came a ruddy flush and then
the sun rose, a great, blood-red ball. As is our cus-
tom, we meditated a moment toward the sun.

With the light, the Chinese began a scattering
fire again, which gradually gained in pace. Never-
theless, we were more concerned with our breakfast
or, the relative lack of it. We had sweet potatoes
again. Even the section commander joined our po-
tato hunt, behind the pillbox.

Then, marching orders. We were told to advance
along the road of tragedy, on our left. The Chinese
were no longer covering it. As we passed it, I again
saw the woman. She lay in a lifelike position and
seemed still to be carressing the child I had placed
at her breast. It was still alive. I thought I saw it
smile and coo. I hastily averted my eyes.

We entered high grass and used it to camouflage
our helmets and knapsacks. It might have been a
dangerous advance, except for the fact that scouts
had been through the terrain ahead of us. We saw
numbers of vacant pillboxes. About a mile ahead,

EARTH AND SOLDIERS 123

we reached a small village, surrounded by bamboo.
We stopped there, briefly, but barely had time to
munch a few mouthfuls of food when we were
ordered forward again.

Eventually, we came within sight of an isolated
white house. It was still about 600 yards from us
when the company commander, Kataoka, told us
that was our immediate objective. The protective
grass clumps ended near by and there was a long
stretch of open land between. About 100 yards from
the grass was a small mound. We waited an instant
and then charged, and were instantly met by a with-
ering fire from the Chinese machine gunners. I
dropped flat on my face and heard the bullets sing-
ing overhead. The others did, too. The next instant,
I was on my feet and running again. It took no time
at all to cross that 100 yards. I fell, panting and
thirsty, at the base of the mound. The others all
made it safely.

For a moment, we were pleased with ourselves,
warm with the double glow that comes from having
attained a goal, however small, and from having
escaped danger. But it lasted only a moment. Be-
hind us, a voice shouted, "Fall back." I turned and
saw 7 that the officer was speaking to us.

"Why? What's happened?"

"The artillery is going to open up on the Chinese

124 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

positions just ahead. You're in a dangerous place if
any shells fall short/ 7 We could see, not far in the
rear, the big muzzle of the gun being wheeled into
place in a bamboo grove.

The section leader made a quick decision. "Well
go forward, instead of back/' he said. "Occupy the
house. First Section, forward! " He leaped to his
feet. His naked sword was gleaming in the air as he
brandished it above his head. Once again, we were
in the open, with bullets flying all around us. Again,
under a particularly heavy burst of fire, I dropped
to the ground and buried my head in the unhar-
vested rice stalks. They made it difficult to run,
catching at our feet. The fearful pumping of the
guns sounded above me. I wondered, uneasily,
about the men in my squad, but it was too late to
do anything.

I raised my head a little and saw that some of the
section had reached the house. They were deploying
around the sides and rushing into shelter, one after
another. I set myself to start again and, as I leaped
to my feet, one of our machine gunners, stretched
out just ahead of me, suddenly released the triggers
and rolled over. I saw his face, staring vacantly up
toward the sky, as I sprinted past him. In a few sec-
onds, I was beside the house.

Behind the house, on the side opposite the Chi-

EARTH AND SOLDIERS 125

nese position, a trench had been dug. Numbers of
our men were crowded into it. Others were on either
side of the house, operating machine guns. The din
was terrific. The Chinese were answering our fire,
apparently concentrating three or four guns on this
house. Bullets were striking the walls and ricochet-
ing into the air with a high-pitched twang. Little
puffs of earth and sand sprang into being all around
us. The tiles of the roof were cracking,, splitting, and
falling to the ground. An old camphor tree beside
the trench was fully exposed and it was literally dis-
integrating before our eyes. It was a curious sight.
The bullets kept striking branches and leaves, and
there, apparently for no visible reason, the old tree
was falling to pieces.

I noticed, with great relief, that all the men in my
squad had made the hazardous crossing safely. But
the number of our casualties, in that short open
space, was very great.

In front of the house, there was a creek, spanned
by an arching stone bridge. A pillbox was just on
the other side, so placed as to command the ap-
proaches to the bridge and a wide area on either
side of the river. The pillbox's open slots looked like

bi g ggg k e Y es -

At that moment, the roar of our own artillery

sounded. It seemed to roll across the ground with

126 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

leaden-heavy feet. A shell screamed over our heads
and exploded beyond the creek. One of our planes
appeared overhead and joined in the bombardment.
The Chinese cleverly held their fire, entirely, while
the plane was overhead. I guessed that they were
afraid the explosions of their guns would reveal, to
the Japanese pilot, the exact location of the pill-
boxes. A heavy bomb from the air probably would
destroy them. Otherwise, the pillboxes, covered with
grass and molded in gentle curves into the land-
scape, would be almost entirely invisible from the
air. But as soon as the planes left, they opened fire
more ferociously than ever. Under the terrible cross
fire, it would have been suicide to attempt an ad-
vance.

But as evening came, the clouds gathered and
soon a fine drizzle was falling. "Now we go/ 7 some-
one said. "The next stop is that pillbox, on the other
side of the bridge/' The Nakamura section was told
to take the lead. Everyone began stripping off his
knapsack, in order to run faster. Our artillery, in the
rear, was laying down a heavy barrage.

"Forward!" the Nakamura section leader cried
and the men were out of the trench like a pack of
hunting dogs. Fortunately, a shell landed directly
on the approach to the bridge, on the Chinese side,
at that same instant. A fountain of white smoke

EARTH AND SOLDIERS 127

rose in the air. The shell knocked out a Chinese
machine gun and provided a screen for the at-
tackers.

"Well done!' 7 a captain cried, excitedly.

"Now it's our turn/' shouted the section leader,
Yamazaki. "Once you start, don't stop. Cross that
bridge as fast as possible. It ? s your only chance."
We fixed bayonets. The eyes of the men were fixed
and glinting with a strange sort of madness.

The next thing I remember was jumping from the
trench and starting tow r ard the bridge. It was like a
dream, in which, no matter how your muscles strain,
you seem to make no progress. I ran as hard as I
could, but it seemed an age before I reached the
end of the bridge. I could hear the men behind me.
We made it and fell behind the protecting curve.

On my stomach, I edged forward toward the top
of the dome. Bullets were whipping the stones an-
grily and little sparks glittered all around. Only a
few feet in front of my head w r ere the corpses of two
Chinese soldiers, half-burned. They probably were
killed in the explosion of that shell, just at the mo-
ment of our charge.

Our orders were to deploy on either side of the
bridge, once we reached the other side of the creek.
We thus would protect the flanks of the Nakamura
unit, that had charged straight for the pillbox. Bui-

128 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

lets were coming like hail, and so I made no attempt
to go further. I yelled, "Be careful/ 7 to the men.
Then, as quickly as I could, I jumped to my feet,
vaulted over the side of the bridge, and landed with
a great splash in the creek. I was then at an angle
where the Chinese fire could not reach me. While
I watched, the men came over the side, one by one,
in the same way. Half of us spread out on one side
of the bridge and half on the other. We immedi-
ately cut a shallow trench in the soft earth. The
pillbox was silent, apparently taken.

It \vas now dark. The trench was wet and the
ground all around us was damp. The light rain con-
tinued to fall. Besides, after being keyed up so
tightly, a nervous reaction had set in. We were all
shivering and our teeth chattered, incessantly. I
went under the bridge to inspect the rest of the
squad. To my intense relief, all of the men were
safe. No one had suffered as much as a scratch.
Sakagami, whom I told to take charge of the men
on his side, seemed depressed.

"When I was crossing the bridge/' he said, "I
was frightened by a sudden flash of bullets. So I lay
flat, gripping a dark object lying in front of me.
Then I saw what it was. Did you see it? It was a
Chinese's body, burnt to a crisp. Half his face was
blown away. IVe been washing my hands over and

EARTH AND SOLDIERS 129

over again, ever since, but I can't throw off the feel-
ing that it's a bad omen/' He added, absently, "An-
other one Is up there, still alive and moaning." His
face twisted as though he had something bitter in
his mouth.

Had we not been so busy, that night, we might
have been more uncomfortable than we were. The
Chinese fire never slackened. They shot thousands
and thousands of rounds at us, making up in tenac-
ity what they seemed to lack in courage. Of course,
we were not permitted to build a fire to warm our-
selves. And as for food, the only bite I had was a
morsel of dried fish. Then I remembered the omen-
vest, made of dried cuttlefish, that I have told you
about. I wished I had it with me. Even that might
have tasted sweet. Suddenly, all thoughts of hunger
were driven away.

"Counterattack!" someone cried. Peering through
the darkness, I saw a black mass moving toward us.
I pointed and shouted, "Open fire!" Yoshida, the
machine gunner, swung the nose of his weapon
around and pressed the triggers. A spatter of bullets
leaped into life. The men were blazing away rapidly
with their rifles. I called over to Sakagami.
"Can you see the enemy?"
"Yes. We're giving them all we've got/"
Just as I turned my head, the machine gun spot-

130 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

tered, coughed, and stopped. A thrill of horror ran
through me. Yoshida cursed.

"What's the matter with it?" I asked.

"I don't know."

He dug inside his coat and quickly brought out a
flashlight and began tampering with the gun. I was
badly frightened. Rifles alone would not stop that
weighty mass, rolling toward us like a comber in the
ocean. We felt helpless. Fortunately, he fixed the
gun quickly.

"Cartridge belt is damp/' he said. I sent a man to
get a dry one. No music has ever sounded sweeter
to my ears than the ugly pumping of that gun when
it resumed fire. Suddenly, we could see nothing
more. The attack was beaten off.

The Chinese attacked six times during the night.
More than once, they came so close that we could
hear them, but we never came to grips with them.
They would come almost to point-blank range. We
waited, with bayonets fixed, to meet them, hand-to-
hand. At that point, they would unleash a terrific
rifle fire and then run.

November 13, 1937.

In the cold dawn we left our trench and started
moving cautiously through the rice fields. It was a

EARTH AND SOLDIERS 131

wet, gray morning. The whole area was a mass of
pillboxes, so the bullets came from all directions. A
maze of communication trenches had been dug here
to connect with the different forts, but they had
been abandoned as we advanced. We never once
came into close quarters with the Chinese. These
entrenchments would have given them an enormous
advantage over us, but they made little or no use
of them. On both sides of rne, I could see the brown
masses of our men. Here and there, they were at-
tacking pillboxes. We stopped, finally, in one of the
many trenches. I could see only two of my men,
from where I lay. Someone was shouting. The words
came to me.

"Where is the second squad leader?"

"Here/' I answered.

"One of your men has been hit/'

Before I could learn more, someone said it was
not one of my men. I heard voices calling for a
nurse. The bullets poured on us like rain.

Next, we were ordered to proceed to a village on
our right. We moved up the trench, frequently
crawling along its sides and into the open ground
to avoid the Chinese corpses that littered it. We did
not like to step on them or touch them. We were
in muddy water, up to our knees.

Only a few houses were still standing in the vfl-

132 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

lage when we entered it. The section leader was
there. His face was serious. "I've got a bad job for
you/' he said and pointed toward a pillbox in the
open field, just beyond where we were standing. It
seemed like some menacing, formidable monster
crouched there waiting and watching us with wide,
unblinking eyes. The round, grass-covered head and
the parallel gun slots made me think, somehow, of
a huge octopus. I ran my eyes over the ground be-
tween it and the place where we stood. It offered
little protection, except for a mound, some distance
ahead, and within easy range of the pillbox. If we
could reach that, we might be able to machine-gun
the monster and disable its crews. I suspected that
the reinforced concrete head would be impervious
to hand grenades. So, directing the men's attention
to the mound, I ordered a rapid advance. The Chi-
nese saw us coming and filled the air with bullets,
but the range was too great and none of them took
effect. Panting and breathless, we at last flung our-
selves behind the protection of the raised ground.
Now, at this range, the Chinese fire was extraordi-
narily accurate. Bullets spattered all around us, snip-
ping the edges of the mound and kicking up little
spurts of dust. The Chinese machine gunners
sprayed it, like water from a hose. Then the fire
slackened and I cautiously raised my head. Instantly,

EARTH AND SOLDIERS 133

there was another burst of fire and I felt something
like a sharp slap on the right side of my head. 1 pot
my hand to my ear and it came away red. Blood
began running down my neck. Then my ear began
to burn. A bullet had just grazed it.

"It's no use trying to get at them from the front/ 7
observed Sakagami, lying beside me. "They can
knock us over before we have a chance/"

"We might try the back/ 7 I said. "Unless they've
got gun slots in the back of the pillbox, or unless
some other pillbox protects them, they're defence-
less from that direction/"

"More chance that way/' he agreed.

I told the men we would retire to the village and
cautioned them to crawl along the ground, taking
advantage of the mound as far as possible. "Then
run/' I said. "Go, one by one."

They needed no such warning. Presently, we were
all back in the village. We entered a bamboo grove,
in order to conceal ourselves from the enemy and
began our encircling movement. Eventually, we
came within sight of a peasant's hut, directly at the
rear of the pillbox. This, obviously, was a vulnerable
point for the pillbox. I could see that there were no
gun slots commanding this angle. Therefore, it
seemed a matter of common sense to suppose that
the Chinese w r ould try to defend the house and, in

134 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

fact, all the rear approaches to the fort. We fixed
bayonets for close fighting, advanced slowly, and
then, en masse, raced toward the house. To our sur-
prise, not a shot was fired at us and not a single
Chinese bayonet opposed our attack. We broke into
the hut, walked through it, and found ourselves
right behind the pillbox. It was silent as a tomb.
For a moment, I thought it had been deserted.

The pillbox was about thirty feet in diameter,
with two heavy doors of unpalnted wood. As though
it were no different than a private house, we knocked
on one of the doors. There was no answer. Then a
fusillade of bullets came across the field, from the
Japanese side, and I realized we were under fire
from our own men. I hastily planted a flag on a
piece of bamboo and stuck it in the top of the pill-
box. The firing ceased.

While I was doing this, I saw three holes, appar-
ently for ventilation in the big box.

"I'm sure they're in," said Kojo, one of the
privates.

"Well see/' I said. "Give me a hand grenade/'

He took one from his pack. I pulled the pin and
dropped it down the ventilation pipe. Then another
and a third. In an instant, we heard the explosions,
dull and muffled. Then, I ordered the men to train
their rifles on a certain spot in one of the doors.

EARTH AND SOLDIERS 135

They fired, but it might have been made of steel,
for all the damage that was done. One of the men
hurled a big rock at it, without result. Then I ham-
mered with the butt of my rifle and cried, "Ni lai
lai, ni lai lai/ 7 ("Come out, come out!") There was
no answer. I kicked the door violently and repeated.,
"Ni lai lai, ni lai lai." Utter silence was the only
answer.

I was scratching my head, wondering what to do
next, when suddenly I thought I heard a voice in-
side. I put my head close to the door and it became
more audible. Someone was speaking., calling some-
thing to us in Chinese. The door trembled. I sprang
back, pointing my rifle toward it. It opened, just an
inch or two, and I caught a glimpse of a dirty,
powder-streaked face. It was the first time I had seen
an enemy at such close range.

Then, they opened the door completely and stood
there, with their arms, pistols and rifles, held out in
token of surrender. We collected more than thirty
of these weapons. I was surprised at the amount of
these, as well as the number of rounds of ammuni-
tion they had.

Again I repeated, "Ni lai lai/' and gestured to
them to come out. They began to emerge, hands
held high in the air.

The first thing that struck me was their youthful

136 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

appearance. They looked like delicate, slim, young
boys. And then their close resemblance to us Jap-
anese became apparent to me. I had a twinge of
sadness and bewilderment when I noticed this.
They were almost like our own people, yet we re-
garded them as the enemy.

They bore the marks of the hand grenades. One
had some bad bums. Another's cheek was a bloody
mass, torn to ribbons. Still another had had part of
his jaw blown away. They came out bowing and
rubbing their hands, and making gestures that
seemed to plead for their lives. One broke through
us and darted away into the field, like an antelope.
We shot him down, as he ran.

There were quite a number of them, how many
I do not remember. I realized that there were more
inside. It occurred to me that the prisoners outnum-
bered the captors and that those inside must still
be armed. So I sent one of the men back to the
section commander, asking for assistance. He came
up quickly, with some more men.

I then entered the pillbox, myself, with one of
the men. The acrid tang of gunpowder filled the air.
It was very dark, except for the light entering
through the gun slots and the ventilation pipes. I
lowered my bayonet and cried, "Ni lai lai, Fuai
k'uai ti la." ("Come out quickly.") Some others

EARTH AND SOLDIERS 137

moved and I stumbled over two corpses near the
door. Someone was groaning. Two were weeping
aloud.

These two constituted the most unusual part of
this strange experience. They were both mere boys,
like the others slim and attractive. They might have
been mistaken for girls. They turned toward me
and began talking rapidly, through their tears, say-
ing something that of course I could not under-
stand. I shook my head to let them know this, and
there was a fresh burst of words and wailing. Then,
one took out of his pocket a notebook and flipped
the pages until he came to a small picture, pasted
there. It was of an elderly w r oman. I realized that
they were brothers and that the picture was their
mother's. Why they were weeping I do not know,
except for fear that having been captured., they
would now be executed. A sharp pain seemed to
touch my heart and I would have liked to free them
on the spot, but there was nothing I could do. I
tried to show them by gestures and a smile that they
would not be harmed. Their tears stopped and a
faint shadow of joy crossed their faces. I felt angry
and disgusted, yet helpless in this episode. All I
could do was hand over these boys> with the other
prisoners, to our party and watch them march away.
I re-entered the pillbox, empty now but for the

138 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

dead men on the floor, and looked around. The
walls seemed about three feet thick. Beside the en-
trance were the words, "The Twenty-Fifth Year of
the Chinese Republic/' Strangely enough, a num-
ber of umbrellas were hanging from the ceiling. A
large quantity of food, cooked rice, beans, and hard
biscuits had been stored. We fell on the biscuits like
famished wolves and fairly gulped them down. Then
someone said, "What if they are poisoned?" It was
too late, then, to do anything about that. I, myself,
had swallowed four. We picked up the ammunition
and whatever books and papers we could find, and
left.

An identification tag torn from a uniform, told
us the name and regiment of a Chinese sublieuten-
ant. I remember him well, because of his startling
resemblance to a Japanese friend of mine. On the
lining of this cloth were the words, "Be Loyal to
Your Duty/' "Observe the Regulations," "Action
Instead of Argument," "Toward the Fulfillment of
the Revolution."

Back in the village, when we returned, I saw nu-
merous Chinese captives. I now felt excited and
happy. We had taken a pillbox and carried out a
dangerous assignment. I washed my hands in the
creek and examined my injured ear, then prepared

EARTH AND SOLDIERS 139

for the first real mea! we had had In several days.
We all talked and laughed and compared notes, in
the manner of men who have faced and escaped
great danger.

Later, we had to return to the white house where
we had left our knapsacks. We retraced our painful
steps of the day, even crossing the arched stone
bridge, over which stray bullets from distant pill-
boxes were still flying. It invariably gives me an
uneasy feeling to turn my back on the enemy when
bullets are In the air. The sensation of danger while
retreating Is much different than when you are ad-
vancing. However, at last, we all reached the house.

There, the company was In the midst of a funeral
for those who had been killed during the day's fight-
Ing. There was no really suitable place, but a hole
for the cremation of the bodies was cut In the mul-
berry field, near by. The fire was already burning,
by the time I arrived. Along with the others, I knelt
in the field and joined my hands in prayer. The same
man who had intoned a Buddhist sutra during the
service at the Temple of the Maiden prepared to
conduct this ritual

He stood erect, beside the pit from which clouds
of smoke were billowing. For a moment, he medi-
tated in silence and then, in a clear, strong voice,

140 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

he began to chant The whine of Chinese bullets,
still sporadically crossing this field, supplied a curi-
ous counterpoint for his music.

An officer murmured, "This is dangerous. Lie
down as you pray,"

"I will be safe/' the priest-soldier replied calmly.

He continued to chant. Bullets whipped the mul-
berry trees on all sides of him. I watched him with
admiration. This man frequently describes himself
as a bad priest, sinful and corrupt, and careless of
the rigid vows he has taken. But at this moment,
he seemed to me noble, even sublime, as he stood
there like a tree, straight and firmly rooted, oblivious
to danger, serene in his faith. For all that he showed,
this open field, alive with bullets, might as well
have been the dim and silent recesses of a temple.

We advanced no further this day. A great number
of pillboxes had been occupied, at the sacrifice of
a great many Japanese lives. Yet, many others re-
mained. How many more would we have to take
before this region was entirely under control? I de-
cided not to think about it.

We moved toward the rear, entering a village
where, for the first time in many nights, we knew
the sharp, almost painful pleasure of sheltered rest
on soft straw.

EARTH AND SOLDIERS 141

November 14, 1937.

Today we were shifted into the reserve. We
moved behind the lines, beyond the theater of fight-
ing, and lolled all day in a warm trench, safe from
even a stray bullet. The clear autumn sun gently
bathed us. We wanted nothing but rest and this we
had.

But it was all too brief; for with the nightfall, we
again moved up into the line. A beautiful moon
was shining. The orders were to make a surprise
assault on a certain point where the Chinese were
concentrated. We expected to have a good bit of
charging, and perhaps hand-to-hand fighting, so we
stripped our packs down to a very few essentials.

When I learned of this, a thrill of strain and yet
expectancy ran through me. I thought about the
men in my squad. It seemed to me that we had
been unduly lucky, having gone through day after
day of the hottest kind of work, with hardly a
scratch. Two of the original thirteen had fallen be-
hind, one with a slight wound, the other from ill-
ness. I had had part of my ear shot away. But this,
considering what we had gone through since the day
of the landing, was nothing at all. Sooner or later,
I felt, our luck must ran out. The laws of averages
will begin to operate against us. I tried now to pre-

142 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

pare myself, mentally, for disaster. Some of us, I
thought, will surely be sacrificed.

We had a little time left, so I called the men to-
gether and proposed a quick feast of rice gruel. To
me, it was a sort of farewell dinner, but of course I
said nothing about this. They agreed readily. We
prepared the gruel in our tin boxes and ate it to-
gether. My heart was full of excitement and fore-
boding, and I kept my eyes moving from one face
to the other, as we ate.

We had hardly finished before I was summoned
to staff headquarters. The company commander
was standing on a small bank, beneath a tree. All
the section and squad leaders were there. From
where we stood, we could look across a wide expanse
of ground. It was like a lake in the deceptive light
of the moon, a lake with a steep, black shore. That
was a forest, in which a pillbox was concealed. We
were ordered to take it. We examined the terrain
and got our instructions. Then the company com-
mander ordered the artillery to open up.

The gun crashed. Almost instantly, in the black
depths of the wood, we saw the shell explode; a flash
of fire and smoke. The sound rolled across to where
we stood. "Good shot/' said the commander. Four
or five shells were dropped on the same spot. Mean-
while, the infantry was moving into line, preparing

EARTH AND SOLDIERS 143

to cross the silvery field. But the Chinese seemed to
anticipate us, for suddenly a sublieutenant cried,
"Enemy coming up! It's an attack/' There was a
rattle and rumble, all down the line, as the men
clamped their bayonets on the guns and then swung
them around toward the advancing Chinese.

It was hard just to lie there and \vatch. Some
primal instinct, running hotly through us all, im-
pelled us to rise from the ground and plunge for-
ward. Discipline is stronger than instinct. We had
no orders, so not a shot was fired and not a man
moved out of line. We saw wave upon wave of
Chinese infantry coming across toward us. At that
distance, they were hardly more than a mass of dis-
embodied shadows, black against the silver of the
field.

Then, as it happened so many times before, the
shadows melted into nothingness before our very
eyes. Suddenly, the field w*as empty again and
drenched in silence. Nothing was there. It required
an effort of mind to realize that, a moment before,
lines of enemy had been coming toward us. The
effect was weird, illusory.

We waited. Presently, they let go with machine
guns from both their right and left fianks. The guns
pumped and chattered for several moments. We
could see the little red dots in the distance and the

144 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

bullets sang through the still night air, like thin steel
wires, vibrating. Lying flat on the ground, as we
were, they caused us no damage. We continued to
lie there. Time passed and still there was no order
to advance. Many of the men went to sleep. In this
way, the night deepened and finally passed. It was
anticlimactic, but not unusual in this strange war.

November 15, 1937.

What we admire more than anything else in the
Chinese is their ability to retreat. This is said sin-
cerely and not in sarcasm. One moment they are
confronting us, apparently hot and raging and com-
ing toward us for a death grip. And then, even as
we watch, they vanish, fading from view like images
on a motion-picture screen. Quickly and quietly, and
with consummate cleverness, they go away.

Thus it was in the morning. They surprised us
completely by withdrawing, during the night, on
soundless feet. The only human sounds in the air,
this bright sunshiny morning, were those we made.
Last night, the half-light was filled with bullets. Just
across the way, a considerable force of the enemy
was stationed. Once they moved out toward us.
Their machine guns spit viciously. Their pillboxes
were manned and prepared for us.

EARTH AND SOLDIERS 145

But today nothing. Not a bullet, not a move-
ment, not a sound. We marched across toward the
clump of trees. Nothing opposed us. The pillboxes
were silent as tombs, deserted, empty. The only
Chinese we saw were the Chinese dead, sleeping
quietly where they had fallen. It surprises us, also,
that the Chinese should abandon their dead, in this
manner.

Not only the soldiers but the peasants as well,
were gone. We were in a lonely and silent world.

We found ourselves crossing a long stretch of
flat and, for the most part, monotonous ground.
Then we came upon an ocean of flowers, wild dai-
sies, cosmos, and some white blooms very much like
the sorrels we have at home. I have told you before
that we frequently camouflage ourselves as well as
possible, sticking bunches of grass or twigs into the
netting that covers our helmet for that purpose.
Now, under the pretext of thus protecting them-
selves, the men began picking flowers as they
inarched.

It is rather amusing. For, strange to say, they
"camouflaged" their helmets by adorning them with
the white daisies, which would make a target that
an enemy sharpshooter could spot from a mile away.
Some of the men, in fact, literally covered them-
selves with these lovely blossoms, winding them into

146 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

every possible spot on their uniforms where the
flowers would stay. They looked like chrysanthe-
mum dolls, such as we see in the autumn flower
shows at home. The fact was, of course, that the
soldiers, as always, fell in love with the flowers and
therefore picked them. Then too, I suppose, the
color of white is naturally attractive to those of us
who see so much of blood, mud, and dirt. The pu-
rity and nobility of a white petal touches our hearts,
in these days of battle.

At noon, we halted beside the road and the usual
canvass of our dietetic prospects began. Incident-
ally, it was rare that we could dine, as we did this
day, without hearing bullets. At any rate, someone
produced a sack of beans.

But, as always, it was Hayase who saved the day.
He has a peculiar talent for finding food. His stom-
ach, I believe, has eyes, and it leads him unerringly,
like a magnet to metal, or a divining rod to water.
Whenever we stop in a village, his first concern is
to rummage and poke around, hunting a kitchen,
and, finding it, to take stock of its contents. He has
a dry, unsmiling manner. But his eyes, mischievous
and twinkling, betray him.

Now, as we prepared to dine on beans, he sud-
denly appeared with a goat slung over his shoulder.

EARTH AND SOLDIERS 147

Our eyes popped with surprise and we burst into a
cheer.

"Poor animal/' said Hayase, sadly. "It got itself
killed killed by a single shot, too."

We roasted the goat and parched the beans.
Someone produced a silk cloth, embroidered with
red. We spread it on the ground and placed the tin
mess dishes on it, filled with goat meat and beans.

"What a beautiful day! Just like a picnic/'

Afterward, I went down to the creek to get a
drink. In the water's clear mirror, I saw my face,
dirty and covered with a stubbly beard. It looked
changed, the face of a stranger. I took out a razor
and, with only the cold water, fought a painful
battle with my beard.

"Look at our commander/' one of the men said,
"dolling up for our entry into the city of Kiashan."

We marched onward and, in the afternoon, the
crenelated towers on the walls of Kiashan suddenly
emerged from the horizon. Our flag, the red Rising
Sun, floated proudly from the highest point above
the gate. My heart contracted with pride when I
saw it and the tears came into my eyes. We did not
enter the city, but bivouacked in a small village, on
the right.

Dinner, that night, was a banquet. The city was

148 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

well-stocked with food and my men went on a buy-
ing orgy. There were plenty of chickens in the vil-
lage itself. From the city, we bought pickled plums,
eggs, cakes, candy, and a vast amount of Chinese
wine. The food was placed before us and we lolled
on the warm earth, eating and drinking almost to
suffocation. Gone now were the memories of hunger
and cold, wetness, danger, and death. The pleasure
of sheer animal living was almost unbearable.

Sublieutenant Yamazaki, the section leader,
joined us and we asked him to sing "Konya, the
Harlot." He agreed, but was called away before our
banquet was finished.

As I sat there, watching the firelight playing
across the bronzed faces of the men, my mind went
back over the events of the days since we landed.
The memories of some were confused, often frag-
mentary, perhaps misleading. Under such great
stress, one's observational powers are not entirely
accurate. Still, the general impression was there and
a sort of surprise came over me in the realization
that, although thousands of bullets and shells had
come near me, I was still alive, virtually untouched.
Many others had been less fortunate. The men were
greatly changed, their very personalities different.
They had become so strong, robust, both mentally
and physically, that they were nearly unrecognizable.

EARTH AND SOLDIERS 149

I remembered, too, how I had wrestled, on the
boat, with the curious fact of being a squad com-
mander, with practically life and death powers over
thirteen men I had never seen before. As I told you,
I doubted at the time that I could assume such
responsibility. You recall how heavily it weighed on
my heart. And I reflected, now, how absurdly easy
it has been. Through action and not mere mental
reflection, I had found the answer, solving the prob-
lem by exposing myself to every danger that they
had, going first in approaching the abyss of death.

Danger and hardship have bound us together in
an iron-strong relationship on the field. We trust
each other implicitly and we have merged our indi-
vidual interests in the common whole. It seemed to
me, as I thought of it, that we had found simplicity
and humility to be closely akin to nobleness. We
had been welded solidly, in the fighting, into a group
sworn to fight, through everything, for the father-
land. It gives us strength and makes us able to die
in the field, almost unconsciously saluting the Em-
peror with our last breath. The hardships that had
seemed so great at the time, almost unbearable,
were now quickly forgotten. Indeed, they now ap-
peared, in my mind's eye, to be bathed with a pure
and radiant light.

Before we advance again, I am going to mail this

150 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

long series of letters to you. My dear brother, this
does not mean the end of the war. There are endless
muddy roads and ghastly battles still ahead of us.
Believing in our spiritual strength, I will go ahead
as bravely as possible. Believe me and pray that I
may be able to write again soon, beginning with my
usual phrase, "I am still alive, Brother/'
Good-by, now.

WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

INTRODUCTION

In the spring of 1938, Chinese and Japanese
armies fought a tremendous battle on the yellow
plains of China's Middle West. The prize was the
city of Suchow, strategic key to a railway connecting
the seacoast with the interior. This railway was like
a great, sprawling fortress, lying flush across the
path of the Japanese advance. Without it, they
could go no further.

Both sides knew this. Each began massing its
full strength for the impending struggle. From
every direction men and munitions and all the
modern engines of destruction, came pouring to-
ward a focal point.

Before the positional lines were drawn, scores of
engagements, ranging from skirmishes to major
battles took place. The Chinese frequently isolated
and trapped Japanese columns as they entered the
region, on their way to a junction with the main
forces.

This was the fate of the unit to which Corporal
Ashihei Hino, an intelligence officer, was attached.
He records the full story of a disaster on the road

to Suchow. To Japanese readers, who had been fed

153

154 "WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

with official army communiques and censor-filtered
newspaper reports, it is a great classic. It is the voice
of the common soldier, crying out in fear and pain
and horror, as death appoached.

For purposes of condensation, this translation
omits the book's report of the long and uneventful
journey from Shanghai to the Suchow area.

Baroness Shidzue Ishimoto

By the time I reached headquarters, Kawakubo,
chief of staff, had almost finished giving instruc-
tions to the officers gathered there. They all looked
very grim and serious. Kawakubo summarized the
main points of the coming operation and then he
said, "That brings us almost to Suchow. I under-
stand we already have flanked the Chinese front
and that the enemy is withdrawing. There seems
to be a good deal of confusion. It will be a matter
of great regret if all the fish in the net slip away. I
don't believe that will happen. Thousands of enemy
operatives remain in that area. The job placed be-
fore us is to try and destroy them completely/'

That was all. We saluted and left.

There was still some time before our departure,
so I took Umemoto, the photographer, and went
for a walk through the town. Very few inhabitants
remained. They were helping the soldiers draw
water and load provisions. The walls surrounding
the city and the gates were in good condition, and
pierced everywhere with rows and rows of gun slots.
Patriotic posters had been plastered by the Chinese
on both sides of the wall, "Let us have money from

the rich to protect the Fatherland," "Consolidate

155

156 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

a firm position/' "Uncover dishonesty and fraudu-
ience," they said. Nowhere did we find any anti-
Japanese slogans.

This town seemed to have been a great liquor-
producing center before the war. Numerous homes
and stores bore signs denoting types of liquor. I
could not help but admire the Chinese calligraphy.
Their characters are greatly superior to mine.

Aimlessly, 1 wandered through the streets and
finally came to the outer wall. I climbed to the top
of the gate and saw again the immense fields,
stretching away on every side. A road lined with
willows split them. It was choked with our men,
long, long columns of them, marching toward the
front.

Thousands more were awaiting the order to
march. They had stacked their guns and were
stretched out beneath the eaves of the houses, shad-
ing their faces from the sun. Every soldier had a
Senninbari circling his waist. 'The stitches were
stained and faded with sweat. From the men's
shoulders, small bags containing various good luck
charms were hanging.

The men were suffering horribly from the heat.
Some put handkerchiefs or small towels beneath
their caps to protect their heads from the sun.
Many had opened their uniforms and were fanning

WHEAT AND SOLDIERS 157

their bodies with painted Chinese fans. The towels
and handkerchiefs had been soiled with dust and
then soaked with perspiration. They smelled evilly,
but the men did not dare throw them away, be-
cause they could get no others.

Their faces had been burned black with the sun.
They had let their beards grow and the hair was
matted with yellow dust. The men had not been
able to wash their faces, let alone having a complete
bath, for several months. They lay like logs beneath
the shady eaves, thinking only of resting until the
last possible moment.

Most of them had slipped off their shoes in an
effort to relieve their feet which were swollen and
covered with old and new blisters. After every long
march, some of the men were so badly incapacitated
they could hardly go further. Their feet were treated
with iodine, but the next day new blisters came up
and were broken open by the continual marching.
The pain was often almost unendurable. Some-
times, their toenails were smashed and fell out.

I know this feeling. Sometimes, it is as though
these were not one's own feet. The torture becomes
so great that we almost pray for the appearance of
the enemy to distract our minds from the suffering.
But somehow we stagger on. I am often surprised
at human capacities; how much further we go and

158 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

how much more we can do than would be believed
possible.

However, at this moment the men were enjoying
a bit of blessed relief. It was luxury simply to lie
down. Some of them were bathing their sore feet
in wine jugs filled with alcohol. It was a temporary
comfort. When the moment to march came, they
slipped back into their shoes and stood erect. Many
tottered and shambled awkwardly, like wounded
men, for the first two or three steps. Afterward,
they grew steady.

At one o'clock, that afternoon, my detachment
left. In the distance and from all directions, we
could hear the muffled thunder of heavy gunfire.

We marched again through the wheat fields. It
seemed impossible to escape them. Passing a small
town, I saw a pile of corpses, the bodies of Chinese
soldiers in a trench beside the road. Death had not
been long with them, for their bloody wounds were
not yet dry. Among them, here and there, were
some still living. I saw arms and legs move slightly,
gently disturbing the quiet dead.

Suddenly, I realized that I was looking at this
awful sight, without any feeling whatsoever. I was
surprised. Had I ceased to be human? Had I been
captured by devils? Many times I wished to kill
the enemy soldiers. How often had I directed my

WHEAT AND SOLDIERS 159

guns at them? Therefore, it would be sentimental-
Ism, now, to feel sorrow at the sight of death which
I, myself, had tried to bring to other Chinese sol-
diers. So I reasoned. But I could not deny a feeling
of chilly dread as we marched past the trench.

In the town, a few natives were gathered in small
groups. Women were giving naked babies the
breast and there were a few very old men. They
seemed dazed and anxious. Indeed, it was a pitiful
sight. Some soldiers were giving biscuits to the
children, and cigarettes to the women and old men.
At first, they would not take them. Suspicion
showed plainly in their faces. A soldier jokingly pre-
tended to threaten one of the women with his gun
when she would not accept his tobacco. Then she
took it, lit it, and smiled for the first time. The
others quickly followed suit.

We came to a temple, on the outskirts of the
village, and there the village headman gave us hot
tea. He was a nice-looking old man, leisurely smok-
ing a long pipe. We talked with him through an
interpreter. When someone asked him why he en-
tertained us in this manner, he laughed loudly and
replied, "It's not because you're Japanese. We do
the same thing when the Chinese armies stop here."
The soldiers laughed and someone asked what he
would do if both armies came at the same time.

160 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

"Run away/' he retorted.

As we approached Suchow, I noticed that many
of these farmers fought against us in co-operation
with their regular soldiers. But I saw that their as-
sistance was not, in any way, as sincere as their
interest in the soil. They serve tea to soldiers. But
they do not do it because they like the troops, either
the Japanese or their own.

Then I went to see the prisoners our infantry
had taken. There were about 1,500 of them.

Umemoto told me that very often Chinese strag-
glers mingle with Japanese marching columns after
a battle, without either knowing it. Dust, mud and
blood have obscured the distinguishing marks of
their uniforms, and friend and foe alike are too
tired to talk. So they just inarch along in silence.
Sometimes, the Chinese hear the Japanese language
and of course they do not understand it. But since
there are so many different dialects in China, most
of which are spoken only by people of a particular
district, the Chinese merely conclude that the
Japanese words are those of some Chinese language
they do not understand.

Discovery usually comes after a rest period. The
men all lie down together, but when the order to
march is given, the Chinese, of course, do not

WHEAT AND SOLDIERS 161

understand it and continue sleeping. Then they
are made prisoners.

From the rear of the group of captives in this vil-
lage, I saw three being led away to execution. One
was about forty, the other two were very young,
less than twenty, I thought. A soldier told me these
three had refused to answer questions, tried to fight
with the examining officer, and then sought to
escape.

I turned my eyes away from them, unable to
watch them die. It occurred to me that at least I
was not a complete captive of the devil. I was glad
of that.

We saw many Japanese flags, for the villagers
use our symbol like a safety charm. The refugees
at the temple had made a Rising Sun flag, a queer
one, with a square sun set against a dirty brown
background. Other homemade flags had been
pasted on the eaves of their houses. Carts were
decorated with the Rising Sun and some of the
villagers even pasted it on their backs, like a haori
coat. Clever ones picked up tin cans, thrown away
by the troops on march, and walked around holding
the sun insignia outward whenever other Japanese
troops approached. To them, it was a talisman. We
all laughed. Some of us were homesick at the sight

162 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

of so many Japanese flags. It made us long for the
day of our return, when our own people would
wave these symbols for us.

Again we marched for hours through the endless
dusty fields and finally came to the village of
Sunkan. There, again we halted and I went to look
around the town.

It seemed to have been a very rich city. I saw rows
and rows of large and handsome homes. The cus-
tomary red lucky papers were pasted above every
door and the scrolls of gods of good fortune were
everywhere on the walls. It was easy to see how
assiduously the Chinese pursue prosperity for them-
selves or their families.

I wandered through the streets, but saw no one.
The houses apparently were all deserted. Finally, I
entered one of them. A blue-silk curtain hung over
the door and a sweet scent clung to the room. It
made my heart beat with a feeling I cannot describe.
It was a small room and appeared to me to have
been the bedchamber of some young couple. The
furniture was elaborate. There was a fashionable,
full-length mirror for dressing, some small feminine
shoes embroidered in blue and red, some tiny
lacquer boxes and pewter and silver toilet articles,
a silver lamp, and a red table.

In the rear of the room was a double bed, three

WHEAT AND SOLDIERS 163

sides of which were inlaid with mirrors. Fine silk
and satin quilts covered it. On the table were some
elegant thin "pillow books", showing men and
women in erotic positions. The whole room was
heavy with a kind of warm, feminine fragrance, a
living thing so different from the dusty smell of
the battlefields that it overpowered me. I stretched
myself on the bed and closed my eyes. My rough,
dirty shoes despoiled the silken quilts. Suddenly, I
was swept away by a voluptuous surge of feeling
that I had entirely forgotten since I came to the
war. I sprang from the bed and looked at myself in
the mirror. What I saw was a grotesque, bearded
mask. I had come into this house a conquerer. I left
hurriedly, a defeated man.

When I returned to staff headquarters, Major
Takahashi and Lieutenant Colonel Nakayama, the
staff officers, laughed at me, saying, "Where have
you been? We thought you were lost/' They were
dining early, because the main party was expected
to resume march at two thirty the next morning.
Nishi, the chauffeur, had bought a lot of eggs in
the morning at Chu-hsi-kow, so we had boiled eggs
and onions for our dinner. A soldier named Saito
helped me strip the onions and, as we worked, he
told me about himself.

His parents were old, and both he and his elder

164 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

brother were among the first to be called by the
army. They prayed that their sons both might have
luck and safety. But his brother was killed at
Shanghai. He said he did not fear death, himself.
But his voice lowered when he talked about his
people at home. I tried to encourage him. "Yes, we
are ready/' I said. "Our lives have been dedicated
to the country. Yet there is no harm in protecting
ourselves as much as possible/ 7 Suddenly, it seemed
deathly quiet where we were. A faint breeze rustled
like a ghost through the branches of the willows
and our small candle flickered, throwing eerie
shadows in our faces. Above us was the serene silver
moon. There was not a cloud in the sky.

The main force resumed march at two thirty in
the morning. Originally, we had intended to ac-
company them, traveling in automobiles. But al-
though the moon was still drenching the plain with
light, we were told it would be dangerous to drive
over rough Chinese roads in semidarkness, so we
decided to wait until dawn and then overtake the
marching columns. My first thought was to pass the
rest of the night in some Chinese house inside the
city wall. However, I was afraid of oversleeping and
thus delaying the start, so instead I went outside to
one of the cars. Trucks and ambulances and touring
cars were parked together beneath a clump of wil-

WHEAT AND SOLDIERS 165

lows just outside the walls. Some mule drivers had
tethered their animals near by. Umemoto and I
each took one seat in a touring car. He lay down in
back and I got in the front seat with Nishi, the
driver. The peaceful Chinese moonlight streamed
in through the windows of the car. It seemed very
quiet and remote after the main force had gone.

Some of the men stayed inside the city walls.
Some never saw the dawn of the next day.

I dreamed I was riding along a road lined with
pine trees, the branches of which were twisted to-
gether. The Chinese had set their guns in the
branches and were subjecting us to a hot fire. It
did not seem to hurt us much, but turn and twist
as we would, there was no escape. Even in the
dream, I was greatly puzzled.

And then suddenly I awakened. As I passed from
sleep to consciousness, the crackle of rifles and
machine guns continued. The shooting was real!

Dazed and still befuddled by sleep, I jumped
from the car. I gave Nishi my steel helmet, mentally
reflecting that we would be helpless if our driver
were killed. I drew rny pistol and sword, and stood
uncertainly staring at the city walls.

I did not know the time. The moon was a faded
silver disk, sunk to the level of the crenelated towers
on the wall. Soldiers were flitting back and forth

166 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

like shadows. From the top of the walls and the
towers little red dots sparkled as they poured bullets
toward us. I pressed myself against the corner of a
truck and watched as the men set up a machine
gun. Bullets spattered wickedly all around us. One
made a hole in the steel near where I was standing.
The angry clang as they struck other cars and
trucks sounded on all sides of us.

It was a surprise attack, delivered from inside the
city, after our main party had left. When the town
was taken, many of the Chinese simply hid their
rifles, burned their uniforms and became civilians
again. Some probably hid inside the hundreds of
houses, some in the mountain outside of the city.
Then, after our main party left, they suddenly at-
tacked. Our men who were sleeping inside the walls
must have been killed first. Then the gates were
closed and barred, and the Chinese trained their
rifles and machine guns on those of us outside.

Suddenly a soldier standing near me fell heavily
to the ground. His body lay exposed. "Get up/' one
of the men yelled. "You'll be killed." But he did
not move. I dragged him back to shelter and shook
him, but there was no response. His helmet had two
bullet holes in it, and blood smeared my hands and
uniform.

I called for a nurse. The soldier's face was pale in

WHEAT AND SOLDIERS 167

the dim light and I thought he was dead, but sud-
denly he opened his eyes and murmured faintly,
"It's my head."

"You're all right/' I said. "Your wound is not
serious/ 7

The nurse quickly wrapped a bandage around his
head. Then three of us carried him to an isolated
house, a short distance in the rear. About twenty
men were there. Bullets sang their vicious song
around us, raising little smoky clouds of dust at
our feet.

Then I rushed back to the car where Nishi was
waiting and told him to drive the machines into
the shelter.

He signaled the other drivers, and presently the
ramble of motors blended with the crackling of
rifles and the pumping sound of the machine guns.
Several of the cars however had been damaged by
bullets and refused to start. They were abandoned.

I returned to the shelter of the house. Lying
under the truck, the man who had been hit in the
head suddenly raised himself on his elbows, cried
"May our Emperor live a thousand years!" and fell
back. But he was not dead. Two or three others
who had been hit in the face and hands were getting
treatment from the army nurse.

Dawn had not yet broken and it was still almost

168 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

dark. Only a few of our party were regular infantry-
men. The others were engineers, chauffeurs and
special-service men. They stood up well under the
unceasing rain of bullets and occasionally returned
the fire. But we could see no enemy.

There was no thought in our minds of retreating,
we were concerned only with retaking the city. The
shelter in which I stood was something like a
temple, strongly built of bricks and mortar. Some
of the bricks had been knocked down, and we con-
structed a breastwork of them and mounted
machine guns behind. We were about fifty yards
from the wall.

The machine gunner took careful aim at the gun
slots in one of the towers, where there was a Chinese
machine gun. He pressed the trigger. The rattle
of our fire sounded sweet to me. In the dim light,
we could see our bullets striking in and around the
gun slots, chipping off the edges of the bricks and
raising little white puffs of dust.

Meanwhile, two squads of regular infantry had
deployed on both sides of the temple. Another
group had pressed themselves against the base of
the wall at an angle below the Chinese fire. They
could not be hit, nor could they run to where we
were.

WHEAT AND SOLDIERS 169

I noticed an under officer strolling from one end
of our line to the other, apparently no more con-
cerned than if he had been inspecting a barracks.

It seemed to me a case of unnecessary bravado and

j

I was annoyed with him instead of feeling admira-
tion for his courage.

At the same moment, I heard someone shouting
that there were Japanese soldiers trapped inside the
city walls. What had been their fate? What would
mine have been, if, as I first planned, I too had
stayed inside the city?

In an open space, not far away, a number of
donkeys were tied. They were screaming with terror
because of the noise and the bullets that sang
around them like bees. I saw a large white one
stagger. A bullet had hit him in the hip. Bright red
blood gushed out and the animal half fell His hind
legs seemed to tangle with each other and he
slumped to a sitting position. Another donkey bent
his head toward the stricken beast and muzzled
him as though they were whispering together. One
by one, all of them were hit. Ghastly wounds were
torn in their flesh and the spot where they were
tethered was damp with their blood. It made us
sick to stand by watching, helpless to rescue them.

Several army trucks and automobiles were with-

170 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

drawing from the scene of fighting, proceeding in
a cavalcade toward the mountains. The Domei 5 car
began to burn. Great black clouds of smoke poured
from beneath the hood. Sudo and Takasaki, the
two Domei reporters, jumped from behind the
shelter and made a daring attempt to extinguish
the fire, but could not. Then they tried to save their
equipment, but the enemy rifle fire was so severe
they finally had to race back to cover.

Morning finally came. In the gathering light, I
saw the green "Asahi" (a Tokyo newspaper) motor-
bus standing near by, so filled with bullet holes it
looked like a big hornet's nest. An army truck and
touring car were similarly riddled.

In the open space on two sides of the wall, the
two small groups of Japanese infantry were still dug
into their holes, watching the wall and occasion-
ally firing a shot at the Chinese, who were invisible.
Without artillery, we could do nothing. Infantry
alone was powerless against the heavy bastions and
stout gates of the city. The enemy fire never
slackened.

Suddenly, at about seven o'clock, a Japanese
soldier, barefooted and clad only in a shirt, darted
from beneath the cluster of disabled trucks nearest
the wall. He was armed only with a bayonet. In-

5 Semiofficial Japanese news agency.

WHEAT AND SOLDIERS 171

stantly, an elderly officer, sword in hand, followed
him. Together, they made a dash across the open
space and reached the shelter of the brick house,
unhurt. The officer cried out to us:

"What are you waiting for? Don't you know
there are still some of our men inside the city? Some
have already been caught and killed. Come on!
We've got to save them."

In the broken fragments of his excited speech,
we learned what had happened.

The men who stayed inside the city were, like
us, wakened by the sudden sound of rifles. Think-
ing the city was attacked from the outside, they
rushed into the open, unclothed and armed only
with their rifles. Some were killed the moment they
emerged from the houses. The others, quickly
grasping the situation, took cover, separately and in
little groups. They watched as the Chinese closed
and barricaded the gates, piling great mounds of
logs and stones against them.

They realized that they were trapped, and could
only wait and hope that those Japanese on the out-
side would be able to fight a way back into the city
and rescue them. I could well imagine the alter-
nating waves of hope and despair that must have
swept them as they heard our fire from the outside,
finally realizing that, without heavy guns, the gates

172 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

could never be forced. So they waited. In the dark-
ness of the night, they had a reasonable chance of
remaining hidden. But as the hours passed and
dawn began to break, their situation grew desperate.

They decided to make a break for it. Creeping
from their hiding places, they suddenly sprinted
toward the walls. Instantly, they were surrounded
by Chinese. The officer and this one man had
succeeded in cutting their way through, after a
short, sharp melee. They saw another Japanese
killed by a bayonet. Cutting, stabbing, and clubbing
like fiends, the Japanese tried to reach the wall.
Others joined them. The officer and the one private
alone escaped.

We had expected reinforcements to arrive long
before this, but none of our columns was in sight.
So the officers decided to send for help. A young
corporal and a driver climbed into one of the trucks,
and started off through the fields. We thought the
Teragaki unit was following us and this man was
ordered to find it. We watched the truck until it
disappeared in the shadows of Mt. Chen-chiang.

Suddenly, in the distance, there came the dull
boom of a heavy cannon. Instantly, we all pricked
up our ears and looked in the direction from which
the sound came. Our first thought was that a battle
had begun near by, probably between our follow-

WHEAT AND SOLDIERS 173

ing columns and some enemy force. If this was so,
relief was near at hand. Only a few seconds later,
the real truth came home to us.

A heavy shell exploded with a terrific crash, rais-
ing a fountain of yellow dust, in the wheat field,
hardly two hundred yards away from us. It was an
enemy gun. We were entirely surrounded, trapped
between the Chinese who held the city in front of
us and those who apparently were coming up from
the direction of the mountains. Surprise gave way
to despair on the faces of our men. Our position
now was hopeless.

More shells fell. They came closer and closer,
like the thunderous footsteps of an invisible giant,
marching toward us through the field. The brick
house was in plain slight. Getting its range was a
simple matter for the Chinese gunners in the dis-
tance. Finally, a shell exploded with terrible violence
squarely beside the house. The ground shook, frag-
ments of bricks flew in every direction and, for a
moment, the whole scene was obscured by smoke
and dust.

Then we heard cries. Someone yelled, "The bat-
talion adjutant is hurt/' Several men ran from the
building and took cover in the field. Later, I dis-
covered that four soldiers inside were wounded by
that shell.

174 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

I remember thinking coldly and without emo-
tion, "This is a tight spot/' Since the landing at
Shanghai, I had often been in danger, but I was
never really afraid when it was a matter only of
rifles and revolvers, and hand-to-hand fighting.
Furthermore, it had been our experience that the
Chinese would probably not attack from inside the
city. They do not like to expose their bodies in
open combat. So we had felt reasonably secure as
long as the brick house stood between us and the
bullets that came from the walls.

But big shells were different. The house was in
plain sight. It was a matter of time until it would
be completely leveled. Instead of being a shelter, it
was becoming a death trap. Nobody said a word.
The men, singly and in small groups, ran outside
and began digging holes in the ground.

Another shell burst near the Domei car and set
it afire again. A strange thing happened. It might
have been funny at another time, but now it seemed
horribly portentous to us. Apparently the insulation
burned off the electric wires attached to the horn
and, as the car burned, the klaxon screamed in a
husky, wailing voice that gradually grew weaker. It
seemed as though it were alive, screaming woefully
in the agony of death. The Domei men watched in
distress. Inside the car was their portable wireless,

WHEAT AND SOLDIERS 175

and much valuable film and photographic equip-
ment. Not until the car had become a blackened
skeleton did the klaxon's cries stop. It heightened
the feeling of helplessness that gripped us all.

An hour passed. The house was hit several times.
The Chinese fire from the city continued. Then
we saw an airplane overhead, with our own Rising
Sun emblem painted on its wings. For a moment
we were delirious with joy. We fired our rifles,
spread a small flag, and waved our hands. But it
passed serenely overhead, apparently without tak-
ing any notice of us. That was the moment of ex-
treme bitterness and despair. There was our help
above us, a link to connect us with the rest of the
army, a sure means of communication. But it did
not see us.

Then we heard the sound of heavy firing around
the north side of the city walls, opposite our own
position. At first we took little notice of it. Finally,
it occurred to us that this might mean the appear-
ance from that direction of a new Japanese force
and that the Chinese inside the city had it under
fire as it approached.

Hardly had the thought occurred to me than I
heard a shout: "Tanks! It's our own tanks coining
up/' We all turned our heads toward the fields and
there, sure enough, were five Japanese tanks, com-

176 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

ing toward us in single file. They were the small,
high-speed kind. As they approached the walls, they
executed a right turn, so that the forward guns of
each one were pointed toward the city. Then, on
signal, they fired simultaneously. It made a tremen-
dous racket and chips from the bricks flew in all
directions. But the tanks were armed only with
machine guns, so the actual effect was very small.

Then I heard a deeper, different tone. The
Chinese on the ramparts were replying with hand
grenades. There was a short, brisk engagement.

Finally, one of the tanks pulled out of line and
rumbled over toward our shelters. A sergeant
major, smudged with oil and sweat and dust,
emerged from the hatch. Our battalion adjutant,
his right arm and shoulder heavily bandaged, rose
to meet him. The tank commander was a big man,
with a gentle face and large black eyes. He lit a
cigarette and said that his unit had met the truck
we sent out, in the morning. In response to the cor-
poraFs message, the tanks had come up as fast as
possible.

The adjutant briefly explained our situation to
him. "Our best chance is to breach the gates and
fight a way back into the city/' he said. "There is
some enemy artillery back there in the hills, prob-

WHEAT AND SOLDIERS 177

ably with considerable infantry. We are exposed to
shellfire and it will be serious if their infantry at-
tacks from all sides. Besides, we have a number of
wounded. We must get them to shelter. If you can
smash that gate, I believe we can retake the city/'

The tank commander asked specific information
about the ground around the gates and the weight
of the barricades behind them. He said the eye
splits were too narrow to permit a good view while
the tank was in action. That officer who had es-
caped in the morning was called and he described
the manner in which the Chinese had blocked the
gates. "We can try/ 7 said the sergeant major. With
that, he climbed back inside the great machine.

The motors rumbled and its nose jerked around
toward the gate. It waddled like a fat frog over the
uneven ground, heading for the walls. Immediately,
a rain of hand grenades poured from the walls, ex-
ploding against its top and sides and all around it.
A great cloud of yellow dust arose, obscuring our
view for some time. Finally, we saw it emerge from
the clouds and roll back toward us.

The officer reported he had twice rammed the
gate and had succeeded in forcing a narrow open-
ing, barely two feet across. It was hopeless to send
the men through that aperture, since they could

178 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

have entered only one at a time, to be shot down
immediately. He said the tank was too small and
light to drive any further.

In reply, the adjutant begged him to make a
second assault and he agreed. As he disappeared,
a soldier, wild with excitement, rushed up and
shouted, "Eight of us have formed a death band.
Give us as many grenades as we can carry and we
will go with the tank."

Again the machine moved toward the gates, with
the eight men following. Again the Chinese poured
grenades on it. We could see nothing, as the clouds
of dust and smoke rose. We waited, breathless with
hope and excitement. Then, to our great despair,
the tank finally came back. The officer shook his
head and said it could not force the gate. "I can't
even attack again until some repairs have been
made/' he said. "Their hand grenades have dam-
aged us."

We could not see any of the eight men who
volunteered for the death band.

Meanwhile, the enemy artillery fire had begun
again. A shell dropped squarely on the roof, sent
the tiles flying, and exploded on the inside. There
were many killed and wounded. Another fell in the
yard. We could hear the shells coming. It sounded
like the ripping of a great silk sash.

WHEAT AND SOLDIERS 179

The shells were sufficiently heavy to destroy a
tank if they hit one, so the five machines withdrew
some distance into the fields.

In midafternoon, another Japanese airplane
roared at a low altitude over our heads and dropped
a message tube. We seized it frantically, thinking
it would tell us that help was coming. Instead, it
ordered us to move to a position, some four miles
northeast of the city. It informed us that the
Chinese had encircled one of our artillery units and
that relief was needed. What a situation! Here we
were, ourselves in dire need, commissioned to go
to the assistance of another force. Of course, there
was nothing we could do. It was dangerous to stay
where we were, but impossible to think of moving
out from cover, either abandoning our many
wounded or trying to carry them with us.

Unconsciously, I again went Inside the house,
now battered and broken, with holes in the walls
and through the roof. There were several rows of
wounded men lying there, stretched out flat, or
propped against the walls. One of the Domei men
was bleeding from a bad cut in the face. Most of
the men were bleeding from not one but several
wounds. I stepped outside and walked on. An in-
stant later, a shell exploded almost on the spot
where I had been standing. Then another fell not

180 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

far to the right. The air was alive with shell frag-
ments and I was washed completely with the clouds
of thick, choking dust. How I escaped I cannot tell.
Others, some already wounded, were snuffed out
instantly. Still others received new wounds. I heard
voices, but no cries. We lived without speaking
through this nightmare.

I went back to the pit. The special-service men
had taken rifles and arms from the bodies of our
dead, and covered their heads with metal helmets.
A young soldier came to me and told me that if I
would give the order, they would follow me in an
attack on the city. It was better than squatting there
in the pits, helpless under the Chinese fire. I told
them the adjutant was in command and, since he
had given no order, there was nothing we could do.

The day passed. Lengthening shadows crept
across the mountains as the sun sank. Nothing had
changed. If the Chinese had had the courage, they
might have emerged from the city and perhaps
wiped us out in a frontal assault. They must have
been superior in numbers. But they did nothing.
They do not like to expose themselves in the open.

Then the enemy artillery opened up even more
furiously and the shells came like a storm.

I had thought of myself as being utterly brave
and daring, but now I was quaking inside and my

WHEAT AND SOLDIERS 181

convictions were shaken. I had been perfectly con-
fident that the enemy's bullets would never find me.
Suddenly, at this moment, I realized that that was
merely mental comfort. Great shells were erupting
all around us. With every explosion, some of our
men were blotted out. It was mere chance that these
shells had not found me, chance alone had saved
me thus far from death.

I was filled with anger at the sight of life being
destroyed so carelessly. So much noble effort goes
into the development of a single human life. Every
man has his future. Every man here was someone's
son. Many were husbands and fathers. Every one
was a valuable member of iny country. They had,
folded away in their hearts, the longing for home
and were merely waiting for the day of the return.
But one chance shell ends forever the possibility
of that return. This is not unusual. It is the feeling
everyone has in the midst of war. It does not mean
that we refused to die for the country. But I could
not prevent this indignation against war, in its en-
tirety, from welling up in my heart.

We crouched low in the shell holes and the shal-
low pits we had dug. I felt an overwhelming desire
to jump out and attack, but there was no use. The
hours passed. "I don't want to die in this place/'
I thought. I didn't consider myself a coward. I be-

182 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

lieved I had been brave, but I had an intense de-
sire, then, to survive, to escape death, to go on living.

The men in the pit with me were still digging,
burrowing deeper into the ground to enlarge the
shelter. The earth was loose sand, so I too dug, but
with my hands. A soldier offered me his shovel. I
took it and unconsciously began tracing the char-
acters for "Father" and "Mother" in the soft sand.

Then I erased them and wrote the names of my
wife and children. I closed my eyes and prayed to
heaven, "Help me." I touched the good-luck omen
my mother had given me. And I thought of their
prayers for my safety.

At the same time, the thought came to me that
all around me were men whose families in Japan
prayed for their safety. Yet, they were dying, one
after another.

The soldier touched me on the shoulder. "If you
don't dig," he said, "you will be killed." But it
seemed, at that moment, that I would be killed
anyway and my hands were nerveless, refusing to
act. Then I could stand it no longer, and foolishly
jumped from the hole and ran toward the house.

A shell crashed so close to me that for a moment
I lost consciousness. Dust and sand filled my eyes
and nose and mouth. My heart began to race and,
for a moment, I could not hear. All hope was lost,

WHEAT AND SOLDIERS 183

it seemed to me, and yet I murmured, "I don't
want to die. Can nothing help me?" I put my hand
on my heart, as though to stop the pounding and
told myself that this was not fear. That was an
apology. For that's what it was. Fear.

I made a mighty effort to control myself. Many
wounded were lying around. Others, who were not
hurt, simply lay prone, staring, their eyes rolling
wildly. When someone said something, even though
it was meaningless, everyone else listened intently,
as though the words were very important. We all
knew that only the early arrival of relief could save
us from being killed, one by one, under the rain of
shells.

Takasaki, the reporter, sat gripping his knees, an
expression of despair on his face. "We must be pre-
pared to die," he said. He forced a twisted smile.
I tried to smile, too, but the muscles of my face
would not obey me. It occurred to me that, rather
than die ignominiously, it would be better for me
to take my own life. I pulled the pistol from its
holster and pressed it against my temple. A cold,
uncomfortable sensation shot through me. I had
pictured myself as dying gloriously, on some battle
field, crying with my last breath, "Long live the
Emperor/ 7

But now all I wanted was to live. The terrible de-

184 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

sire for life so filled my heart with emotion that I
almost burst into tears. I closed my eyes and
prayed. I tried to shut out the incessant thunder of
shells and the cries of the wounded. In an effort
to control myself, I tried to go to sleep. Perhaps I
did doze off for a few moments, but it was not long
before I awakened and then I could sleep no more.

I had not eaten one bite of food for nearly twenty-
four hours, but there was no feeling of hunger at
all I realized with something of a shock that my
uniform was all bloody. I remembered having car-
ried a wounded man, only a little while before, but
it seemed a long, long time ago.

On the floor, a young boy lay sleeping, his head
covered by a soldier's steel helmet. I envied him
and, at the same time, admired the courage that
permitted him to sleep in the very teeth of this
great danger. But suddenly a shell exploded near by
and he jumped up, threw himself into my arms,
shuddering and crying.

The bombardment grew worse. By this time, the
house was virtually a shambles. Suddenly, in the
midst of the noise, a corporal climbed to the top of
a pile of debris, waved his sword in the direction of
the city walls and cried out, "Come with me. Let's
not die without any resistance. We'll smash the
gate with hand grenades. Come on!" I saw several

WHEAT AND SOLDIERS 185

men jump to their feet and follow him into the
hell of smoke and dust and bullets that filled the
open space between us and the walls. Machine
guns and rifles barked furiously and then the men
disappeared.

At the same moment, a soldier, covered with dust
and sweat, and almost completely breathless, came
running into the shelter. He was a messenger. He
told us that the men we had sent out in the morn-
ing had established contact with another unit of
our forces and that it was hurrying to our assistance.
But the cheer that rose from us died to a gasp when
he added, "They are hurrying as fast as possible,
but they cannot possibly get here before tomorrow
morning."

It was cold comfort, almost tantalizing. For we
did not believe we would live to see the next day.
With every shell, more of us were killed or wounded.
At any moment, the Chinese might emerge from
the city and attack. The relief, when it arrived,
would find nothing but a pile of corpses.

I was still unscratched, but many others were
hurt. To occupy my mind, I circulated among the
men, trying to help the wounded. It was dark by
this time and, except for the lurid flashes of light
that sprang up when a shell burst, we could hardly
see. Groping around in the dark, I felt a body fall

186 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

heavily against mine. A voice said, "I've been hit ...
here ... in the arm/' I carried him into one of the
pits. Having no bandages, I unwrapped his dusty
puttees and then felt with my hands for his wound.
My fingers touched bare flesh, where his shirt had
been torn away, and then something soft and jelly-
like came under my hand. His arm was mangled.
At the same time, I touched the bare bone. It was
broken and sticking through the flesh. I hastily
bound the wound, saying, "It's not serious/' The
shock must have paralyzed him, for he said he felt
nothing.

Another man had shrapnel in his back and neck.
While I was trying to assist him, the first soldier
began to complain of the pain in his arm. Sensation
was returning. "My arm is smashed/' he moaned.
"I can't stand the pain. Give me medicine. Give
me something. Let me faint." I heard him scrab-
bling about in the dirt, writhing, and trying to
stand erect.

Each time he moved, another injured man, lying
next to him moaned, "Be quiet. Aren't you a man?
We've all got wounds." I went for the nurse and
asked him to help, but he shook his head. "I have
no bandages, no more medicine, nothing. There is
nothing I can do for them." I went back to the pit.
The man with the broken arm was growing de-

WHEAT AND SOLDIERS 187

lirious. I put my arms around his waist and tried
to hold him so tightly he could not move. Then he
begged me for a cup of water. I found a canteen.
A voice said roughly, "Don't give him any water,
you damn' fool. He may have a hole in his belly
and it will kill him, for sure."

Then it began to rain. We were chilled and
shivering as the water collected in the bottom of
the pit and rose around our ankles. Yet it seemed
to quiet the men. I was glad for that and glad that
it drove away the sickening smell of warm blood.
At the same time, the enemy fire suddenly slack-
ened. There were increasingly long intervals be-
tween the shells and the rifle fire from the city
ceased altogether. The Chinese do not like to fight
when it rains.

After the roaring of guns and crackle of rifle fire,
the silence that now came seemed thick and heavy.
We moved around silently and I was able to get
some approximation of our losses. One machine-
gun company alone had lost its commander and
three subcommanders. Numerous officers were dead
or wounded and the casualties among the men were
horrifying.

Another messenger arrived. The relief was com-
ing up, with an artillery unit in the vanguard. We
were ordered to evacuate, under cover of darkness,

188 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

for the artillery was going to bombard the walls
and city. The battle of Sunkan was to be fought all
over again.

We were saved, yet it was impossible to feel any
emotion over the fact. We were too tired. Our
nerves were too badly shattered. The violence of
our feelings, during the past hours, had exhausted
us.

Silently, we began making preparations to move.
Our first consideration, naturally, was for the
wounded. Some could walk alone. Some surely
would need support before they had gone far.
Others could not walk at all. We made improvised
stretchers for them. There were not enough and so
those of us who were able carried the wounded on
our backs.

We also carried away our dead.

The evacuation was done as quietly as possible,
but the Chinese must have heard us, for they again
opened fire from the walls. My teeth grated in anger
at the thought of this battered company, this
broken, bloody group of cripples, being again sub-
jected to bullets. Resentment burned fiercely for an
instant. All I could do was reflect that this was war.

The man on my back had a badly shattered leg.
It dangled, like a piece of torn cloth, as I walked.
The pain must have been horrible, but he bore it

WHEAT AND SOLDIERS 189

in silence. His voice was calm and natural as we
talked about the shortest way to reach the hills in
back of us. He said he believed it would be better
to cut diagonally across the wheat field, rather than
follow the winding road. So I did that. After a
while, he grew very heavy and his body would slip,
slightly, down my back. Then I would stop and try,
as gently as possible, to heave him up higher again.
I heard his teeth grind together, each time, but he
said nothing.

Then, outraged nature began to assert itself and
I became acutely conscious of my empty stomach.
I was weak with hunger, and my throat grew
parched and dry. But we had no water. I had to
stop frequently to rest, although I tried to halt as
little as possible, for each such movement was a
torture to the wounded man.

I thought I had walked miles, yet I saw no in-
dication, in any direction, of our own party. I dared
not so much as consider that we could have mis-
taken the way and were lost in these endless fields,
alive with enemies. Perhaps the same thought was
passing through the mind of my companion, but
neither of us spoke of it.

At last, through the semidarkness, I saw a clump
of trees on our right. I turned and plodded toward
them, dimly thinking we might rest there. Under

190 WHEAT AND SOLDIERS

the shelter, it might even be possible to wait until
morning before going onward. As I approached the
grove, there was a spurt of flame and a revolver
fired, once, twice, three times. The bullets whined
over our heads.

I virtually dropped the wounded man. There
was no time to be gentle. We lay flat on our stom-
achs, peering through the murk over toward the spot
from whence the shots had come. Our revolvers
were in our hands. We lay there silently, straining
to pierce the darkness, for a long, long time. Then
we heard footsteps crashing through underbrush
beyond the trees. Gradually, they grew fainter until
they died away altogether.

After a time, we went on. We were now convinced
we had taken the wrong direction and probably
must have come very near to the position of that
Chinese artillery force that had been bombarding
us all that day. So I turned sharply to the left. Soon
we heard sounds of men walking and the words
that came floating toward us were Japanese. A great
sensation of relief flooded through me. Presently,
we were among them. There were about fifteen of
them, mostly wounded, staggering and stumbling
slowly through the fields. Finally, after an hour or
more, we came to the main detachment.

Most of those who had been with me at Sunkan

WHEAT AND SOLDIERS 191

had already arrived. Everywhere, men were lying
like logs, drained of the last drops of emotional
and physical strength. They slept as though dead.

I carried my injured friend to a dressing station
and then, half -blind with fatigue, staggered away to
find a place to sleep. Someone gave rne a blanket,
and I spread it on top of a big box and collapsed
on it.

My eyes closed and the cool breeze caressed rny
cheeks. The storm was over. Patches of moonlight
appeared between the scraps of broken clouds,
scudding across the sky. It seemed to me I was too
tired even to sleep. Then, beneath me, I heard a
thin, high-pitched sound, almost like a flute. Cur-
ious, but too weary to turn my head, I merely put
my hand in the box. It touched something soft,
downy and warm. My fingers closed lightly around
it and I drew it up to my face. It was a baby chicken,
bright yellow and perky. At the sight, something
seemed to break inside me and the tears poured
down my cheeks.

I murmured, "I am still alive. Father, Mother,
I thank you."